Sly 4: The Way of The Thief
by Grimm Gun
Summary: After a vicious attack on one of their own, the gang reunites to lay the Cooper line's true inheritance to rest. Thrills! Chills! And Romance!
1. In The Begining

Hello, hi, how ya doin, whussap, what's new, what's happening and what it is? This is the first fanfic I've done in a long long while, so if I've become dusty; I'm sorry. Of course I would love any input or witty criticisms do not hesitate to apply them.

And also, I recognise all character's forthwith mentioned in this story to be the property of and belonging to Sucker Punch Entertainment.

So, with the stuffed shirts happy, let's start this shindig.

* * *

Prologue; Chicago 11:28pm

"Where will you go?" said the TV, showing the end of an old spaghetti western.

"I don't know ma'am," said the sheriff as he got on the back of his horse, "With any luck I'll finally find out where the sun really sets." He then rode off into the sunset and the credits rolled.

Carmelita was on the couch, laying her head on Sly's lap, pretending to be asleep. She didn't see what Sly saw in these films, especially since not too long ago Sly was an outlaw himself, not that he would remember. In fact, Sly's attested to not remembering anything really since the incident at M's island over a year and a half ago.

The phone rang in the other room, Carmelita would have quit the act and opted to go get it but she actually was somewhat tired. So Sly quietly got up, moving slowly so as not to "wake" her. Carmelita loved that about him, among other things, he was always so thoughtful, remembering everything. Not that **that **was at all surprising, considering the line of work he was in before.

Her ears perked up as she listened in on him in the other room, hearing him pick up the phone.

"Hello?" Sly said into the line, "…She's asleep in the other room, why?" Carmelita smiled, it was probably her mom, her birthday was coming up soon and her parents always tried to surprise her with a gift she wasn't exactly looking for, especially since it's things like that you cherish most in the end. They'd probably dragged Sly into the act this year.

Sly was still in the other room talking, "…Whoa, Penelope slow down and tell me what happened…Have you been crying?" Penelope? Carmelita thought, Sly doesn't know that many people, all the people Sly knew Carmelita pretty much knew too, and she certainly knew no one named Penelope. Why the only Penelope she knew was the grease monkey that Sly's old gang picked up back in Holland. But that wasn't possible, Sly remembered nothing of the Cooper Gang, the bump he took back at M's fortress saw to that.

That's when Carmelita woke up and smelled the coffee, Sly had been **lying** to her. Once that became clear to her, so did everything else. What better way to know if the cops were after you than to live with one? How many cops would even think to look for you if you're dead? **And** just how easy would it be for you to continue a job as strenuous as master thief if the one cop who'd dogged you at every turn and knew all your tricks as well as you do was traveling the world solving other crimes when she thought you were at the office typing up reports?

Sly was still talking in the other room. "You're coming here? ... That soon? Can the boat even go that fast?...Wait a minute, I feel everyone in the gang should be around to make a fair decision….Don't worry Carmelita's heading for Hong Kong tomorrow, I'll tell her the office is sending me to some business summit. I'll see you guys soon. Give Bentley my best."

Sly hung up and turned around in time to see Carmelita in the doorway, mad, with her shock pistol pointed at him. "How long have you had your memory?" she said in a voice that chilled Sly to the bone.

"Carmelita listen I-" Sly began.

"How long criminal!?" tears had begun to stream down her face.

"Ever since M's fortress."

"…Get out."

"…Carmelita-"

**BOOM! **Carmelita fired a warning shot off that singed the fur on his ear.

So, Sly, as painful as it was for him, left the room, Carmelita training the pistol on him the whole way. It wasn't 'til she was sure he'd left that she got on her knees and began to weep. Much like she would when she would need to provide evidence to her superiors that Sly Cooper, master thief, was once again at large.

* * *

So what did you think of that kids!? I feel it's a decent prologue. One more thing kids, remember to yell at me if I've taken too long to put the next chapter up. Please R&R!


	2. In The Begining after The Begining

Hey there kids! Here is in fact: chapter the first of our tale, in which our heroes visit the past, each other and lose lost loves (say that four times fast!). So let's get cracken'!

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**Chicago Dockyard, 5:28 am**

Sly had made further contact with Penelope to set up the rendezvous point at Pier 36, which was where he was standing now, scanning the harbor for the boat Bentley, Penelope, and Dimitri were taking from Paris. Two minutes to 5:30, he should see them by now. That's when he saw it, it stuck out so much like a sore thumb it wasn't funny. I mean in today's world of iron tankers and posh yachts how often do you see a genuine pirate ship just stroll up like it was nobody's business?

Several robotic arms popped out of the ships sides, doing the work of mooring the ship. This work took all of one minute, plus the minute it took to get in position meant that at precisely 3:30 am, EST, the ship had landed. An electric ramp lowered from the ship inches from Sly. At the top of it were three very familiar faces, belonging to a turtle, a mouse and an iguana.

"Now what's a nice buncha kids like you," Sly said as the others descended down the ramp towards him, "doing in a place like this."

"How's it going pal?" Bentley said, as he wheeled towards Sly, sporting several cuts and bruises.

"Sly!" Penelope cried, as she ran up hugged him, "It's so good to see you."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the one and only rudy poot racooper dude," Dimitri said with a twisted cigarette in his mouth. Recently Dimitri came to his senses and realized that maybe a scuba suit wasn't best for every occasion, so now he was wearing his old silk club clothes, which admittedly wasn't for the best, considering they always permeated an odor of cheap cigarettes and coffee. "Bro, since M island I always pegged you to be sleeping with the daisies."

"Dimitri," Sly started, "still being you I see."

"Of course, who else can bring zis much mucho machismo to le table, eh?"

"So," Bentley got to saying, "where's Murray?"

"Weren't we supposed to meet him and the Guru in New York?" Sly replied.

"No," Penelope said flatly, "We were all supposed to rendezvous here."

"Okay, so Murray's a little late, not the end of the world."

"We told him to be here two hours ago because we knew he would be late."

"Don't worry," Bentley said, "Murray will be here."

"Okay," Sly began, "if we're all supposed to meet here, what about the Panda King?"

"He had to catch a red eye flight from Hong Kong, and take two buses and a cab to make sure no one followed him here," said a deep, imposing voice from behind Sly. He wheeled around to find a panda bear armed to the teeth with all sorts of fireworks and other such explosives. This was none other than the Panda King.

"Well winga ding ding, it's the Panda King!" Dimitri shouted, "Finally, a crook you can trust."

"What?" Sly asked, trying his best to look innocent, "You don't trust us?"

"Of course I trust you Cooper. I trust you to act like a total cracker box, bust up my night-club operations and pack me away like a sardine all in one fell swoop."

"Well as long as there's trust."

"I believe we have spoken idly long enough," the Panda King interrupted, "Now, Cooper, what business is it that keeps me from my beloved Jing King? And are we to begin without misters Murray and Guru? Their absence is not ignored."

"We were just talking about that," said Penelope.

"I'm telling you," Bentley persisted, "he'll be here."

"Wait, there he is," Sly said, gesturing further down the pier with his cane. They all looked in the direction he was pointing. Running towards them was a pink hippo in a red luchadore mask. This was the one, the only, duke of demolition, the monarch of mayhem, this was The Murray. And as charming and heat warming as this reunion would have been, they all realized two important things.

"Murray," Sly said, as soon as he got within speaking distance, "where's the Guru? Or the van for that matter?"

"Sly!" Murray shouted, a bit out of breath, "There are like cops everywhere! They got one look at the van and started pouring out of directions I didn't even know existed! And I could have sworn I saw Inspector Fox leading the pack! We gotta get outta here!"

"Inspector Fox!" said Penelope dismayed, "I thought you said she would be in Hong Kong," this last statement pointedly at Sly.

"Why is she even looking for you at all?" Bentley asked.

"She heard me on the phone the night you guys called," Sly said pitifully.

"Oh, no," said Murray, putting his head in his hands.

"Look," Bentley said, taking charge, "that's not important now. Where is the Guru?"

"I gave him the wheel so I could warn you guys. He's been taking them on a tour of Chicago, but we're low on gas and he'll be here any minute."

"Wait," Penelope said, "you left the wheel of a five ton van in the hands of a two foot tall koala bear?"

"Yeah, why?"

It was at that moment that a five ton van driven by a two foot tall koala bear decided to come crashing through the walls of one of the buildings at the end of the pier.

"Oh, no reason."

"Okay people," Bentley said, "we need to get moving. Sly, you need to distract the cops while we move the ship. It's a lot faster with the modifications I've made, but if we're not out of the harbor…"

"We can all kiss freedom goodbye," Sly finished.

"Exactly."

Sly started running down the pier as the rest of the gang got on the boat and started moving. He needed to get on the rooftops where Carmelita could see him. There! A thrown away bed lying next to a dumpster under a fire escape, cakewalk. Sly ran over to the bed and pounced on it, which then bounced him up to the fire escape. He scaled the escape and got to the top of the building. His work was greeted with a wondrous view of the Chicago skyline, which would have been even better if it weren't for the sound of impending police sirens.

Unfortunately, the skyline wasn't the only thing that greeted him. He had to duck as a shock pistol blast zoomed past where his head was less than a second ago.

"FREEZE CRIMINAL!" said a voice from behind him, and although he turned around, he already knew who it was.

"Carmelita, we need to talk."

"No we don't. You're going to jail." She spoke so coolly and venomously that Sly could barely recognize her voice, she'd never used that tone of voice with him.

"No, Carmelita listen." Whatever it was she had to listen to, she didn't want to hear. This punk had been messing with her emotions his entire career. True, she did **like** him, but using that as a shield to commit God knows what while he **lived** in her home was completely and utterly unforgivable. He used her like a tool. She wasn't angry, she was furious, there would be no quarter, no mercy in any form would be granted for Sly Cooper. Not today, tomorrow, and certainly not the next day.

When things happened, they happened very quickly. She fired four times. Two to the left and right, one over his head and the last one was headed for right between the eyes. If he tried to dodge, he was shot. If he tried to jump, he was shot. If he tried to stay still, well I think you get the idea. Then he did something that was so absurdly stupid that she hadn't thought of it as a possible problem, he tried to outrun the bullet. He ran as fast as his legs could carry and jumped arms first off the building as the blasts zipped over him.

The second the idea to jump popped into his head, Sly knew exactly what he deserved to have carved on his tombstone; Sly Cooper, stupid. There! A street lamp with a pointed tip, in the dark Chicago morning it looked like a goddess to him. He twisted in the air and landed on the top as light as a feather. If Rioichi were alive, he'd never get Sly to stop thanking him. But this moment of relief wouldn't last long. Carmelita was no fool, she knew he'd survive somehow, and it wouldn't take her long to start sniping. He needed to get out of here.

"Sly?" Bentley's voice came through as the binoc-u-com's ear piece crackled to life.

"Read you Bentley."

"Get to this point."

He saw it, a big blue holographic arrow pointing to the end of the last pier at the docks, the boat was there, but it couldn't wait for long. The point was a couple hundred feet away, and a bunch of ape mercs were closing in on the boat, and in turn, the marker.

Sly almost laughed at how easy this next trick would be, two flagpoles jutting out of the next building, a crane facing toward him, and all those eager beaver mercs.

"COOPER!!" the sound of Carmelita screaming at the top of her lungs was just as good as any starter pistol. Sly jumped from the lamp post, just as it was decimated by a shock pistol blast. Using his cane he hooked onto the first flagpole, swung forward, and using the momentum jumped onto the second flagpole from on high. He then used the second flagpole as a springboard of sorts and propelled himself to the top of the crane. He slid down the cable towards the ape mercs, just as a few of them started to take flight with their jetpacks, like he knew they would. Jumping from ape to ape, sending them crashing below, he landed beautifully at his destination. Now it was all up to Bentley.

To say that Sly was in trouble would probably have won you the understatement of the year award. The boat was too far away to jump to, the mercs were closing in and Carmelita was about to pop in, guns blazing. He looked over at the boat nervously. Could something have gone wrong? If ever was a time for Bentley to execute his master plan now would be the time, because a reenactment of their job in India wasn't going to end well. Interpol was already irked about having him in custody and losing him twice, a third capture would mean being put in a jail so maxed out that he'd only get out by behaving good behavior and a lifespan of 500.

"Sly," Bentley's voice said over the binoc-u-com, "get ready to paraglide over."

"Bentley, I hate to break it to ya, but I can't fly."

"Don't worry about it, just get ready and leave the rest to me."

"That was the plan, yeah."

Then it happened, one of the Panda King's fireworks came rocketing from the ship followed by several others. The first rocket knocked the chunk of pier Sly was standing on loose, those that followed knocked the hunk of land higher still, until the barrage knocked him three stories up at least. Sly jumped from the rock and reached his right hand up his left sleeve, pulling out a lengthy piece of cloth. The cloth caught air and unfurled, slowing Sly's decent allowing him to glide onto the ship easily.

Sly landed on the deck where Bentley and Murray were waiting for him.

"Bentley, You're a genius!" Sly exclaimed, "Firing explosives at me to knock me in the air until I was high enough to glide over, huh? Clever. Do I even want to know my odds of survival?"

"Not really," Bentley replied.

"Oh man," Murray broke in, "did you see that! That hunk of pier was all like 'BOOM!' and then 'BOOM BOOM!' and then all '**KA-BOOM!**' it was awesome!

"Trust me pal," Sly said a bit flushed, "next time I'll make sure you get to do it."

"Really? Righteous!"

"Okay," Bentley started, "let's stop kidding around, we got work to do. The other's are down below, it's time we got the show on the road."

Meanwhile, back at the pier, Carmelita was not happy. To be honest, she felt downright lousy. She hadn't gotten much sleep these last few days, she'd stubbed her toe back on the roofs, and to top it off, Sly Cooper had gotten away, **again**.

Looking at the ship sail away, just as dawn started to break. It suddenly reminded her of an old cowboy movie she saw a few nights ago, she hated it. She never saw what anyone really enjoyed about those sort of films.

* * *

My story is one you probably know well by now. Born into a line of master thieves that stretched back over hundreds of years, I was next to accept the inheritance of the family line.

That didn't happen so easily. On the night I was to begin my training in the ways of thievery, a gang of ruthless thugs attacked my home, taking not only my birth right, but my parent's lives along with them.

Not long after, I was left at an orphanage and met two kids who would become my friends, partners, and the only family I'd ever need. Bentley, looking at the genius now, it's hard to ever imagine him as the shy timid kid I met all those years ago, and Murray, who was certainly never shy nor timid, or small in any way for that matter, turned out to be a thief's best friend when the going got tough.

Together we blazed a trail of thievery the likes of which the world had never seen before. We'd pulled off more strange and impossible jobs than any work of fiction could say, gathering more wealth, respect, and talent to our gang as time rolled on. It all came to an abrupt stop when I retired and turned legit about a year ago. Since then, I'd been living the quiet life with my one time nemesis Inspector Carmelita Fox.

We'd been getting along great until a couple of nights ago when Penelope, a member of my former crew called. She'd been living the good life in our old base at Paris with Bentley. Then one night a group of assailants attacked their home. Penelope was getting groceries at the time and returned to find Bentley roughed up pretty badly. The only thing stolen was from their special vault, the only piece left of the curse that vented itself upon my family name for over a millennia, the shattered Hate Chip of the mind of Clockwerk. And to pile more bad news on, Carmelita heard me on the phone and…well let's just say we had a falling out.

I'd worry about Carmelita later, right now I need to focus on what's at hand. I need to find out why someone would viciously seek out the remainder of the Clockwerk legacy. Because if I was ever going to have any future with Carmelita, I'd have to take care of my past.

* * *

Okay folks, that's the end of the first chapter. I'm sorry that it took me so long to update, but with school, work, this, that and the other, I'm sure you understand. Also if there are any grammatical errors and such, please let me know. And finally, to **Penguins are teh POWER** and **Jessica**, YOU GUYS ROCK! First reviewers, woot! PLZ R+R!!


	3. The Terror Reborn

Okay boys and goils! Today's menu feature's Chapter the second, in which our heroes set a trap for doughnuts, meet the tiger butler and the baddies just have a ball.

* * *

So far our search hadn't turned up much of anything. We searched high and low, calling in a whole bunch of favors, but nothing. In our defense, we were a gang of thieves, not gumshoes, but still we should have turned up something. I mean you don't just rip off the Cooper Gang without boasting it to someone, right?

Bentley theorized that whoever it was; knew how to run a tight ship and must have some manor of technical genius on par with his own. The assailant, there was only one apparently, shouldn't have been able to enter the house without setting off some sort of alarm. It was painfully obvious as well that whoever it was, was well versed in combat as well. They'd have to be to do what they did to Bentley. I mean sure; the guy's in a wheelchair, but he's not exactly helpless.

The one thing that truly baffled him was that literally everything in the new Cooper vault was left untouched, except one. Out of all the priceless treasures, the Thievius Raccoonus, heck, even his time machine proto type, not a single speck of dust was shivered on any of them. After literally ripping the vault door from it's hinges, the assailant took a small glass box with a bunch of broken micro chip pieces in it. Me, Bentley, Murray and Carmelita were the only ones who saw that out of all the Clockwerk parts to be destroyed in Paris two years ago, the shattered hate chip was the only one to survive.

It was definitely slow goings, until our first big clue landed in our collective laps. Both Dimitri and Panda King had been invited, via email, to a formal coming out party being held in London. We would've dismissed it until we read that the host was none other than my one time nemesis Sir Raleigh the Frog, privileged turned pirate. I have no idea what we could hope to find at this party, but with someone out there, attacking us in our homes, every lead counts.

**Sly Cooper**

**and The Gang**

**in…**

_**The Terror Reborn**_

* * *

**London, 10:44pm**

The Guru sat in wait, any minute now, his prey would be upon him. It was crucial for him not to move, and despite his nose itching, he mustn't move, it was crucial to his mission.

Penelope entered the room with a paper bag in hand, removing the hat, coat and beard that made her disguise, whilst Sly, Bentley and Murray waited greedily at a table in the middle of the room. She barely set the bag on the table when it exploded in a haze of purple smoke, leaving only the Guru in the center of the group.

Before the smoke could clear, the Guru reached into the bag and took out three powdered, jelly doughnuts. He held one in each hand and pocketed the third in his mouth. He scurried off into the corner, carrying his stick and moonstone in the crook of his arm, shouting something in unintelligible aborigine.

"Guru, you fiend!" Bentley called after the outback mystic.

"Don't worry pal," Sly said picking the paper bag off the ground, stealing a cheese danish from it, "plenty more in the bag."

"Yeah, but he got all the good ones," Bentley replied, watching with envy as the Guru wolfed down jelly number two with extreme prejudice.

"Forget about it," Penelope said as she helped herself to the bruised apple she opted to munch on instead, "what goes around comes around. If he keeps eating like that, he'll be wider than he is tall."

"No kidding, I wrote the book on that bro-, err, sister," Murray said as he moved the real table into place at the rooms center, he found it during the doughnut fueled confusion. "So what's the plan?'

"Yeah," Sly chimed in, "when do you want me to pull recon duty?"

"Huh?" Bentley said distractedly, he was watching in pain as the Guru lapped bits of jelly off his fingertips, "Oh right, recon. You won't be going."

"What!? But I always go on recon duty!"

"I'm sorry Sly, but Raleigh's pulled out all the stops for this event. He's put extra security on the roofs and bought out most of the local cops. He's even gone so far as to reserve all the local hotels and pay the locals to stay indoors, were just lucky that the family who lives here is on vacation."

"Okay, okay, I get ya," said Sly, "But how are we going to get intel if I'm in here?"

"I've outfitted Dimitri and Panda King with remote micro cams, wires, ear pieces, the usual James Pond stuff."

"Swanky.'

"I do aim to please."

"Bentley!" Penelope started, "They left a while ago, check your computer and see if they're there yet."

**Elsewhere…**

"Guys," Bentley said through, Dimitri and Panda King's ear pieces, "are you there yet?"

"Yeah bro," said Dimitri after a hearty swig of his martini, "we're pulling up now." Dimitri and the King were riding to the party in a limo despite the safe house being a few blocks away. But it was one of those parties where if you weren't in the absolutely most expensive limo in town, it was a given that you were a gate crasher or cop. Dimitri swayed and hiccupped as they rounded a corner.

"Mister Dimitri," Panda King said calmly from the opposite seat, "perhaps getting…tipsy so early in the mission, if at all, is not the wisest of decisions."

"Ah, but these parties are always such a big drag bro. Always the same; 'Dimitri meet him, Dimitri meet her, Dimitri put your pants back on, no one wants to see that thing right now, you're embarrassing me,' no sense of vision what so _to the_ ever."

"Ugh, I _really_ didn't need to hear that one," Penelope said over the mike as the guys got out of the limo.

"Relax," Bentley said, "this mission's most likely a washout anyway."

"Radio silence please," Panda King requested.

They walked over to the door and were stopped by a guard at a metal detector. The Panda King got through easily, Dimitri however….

**VRRP! VRRP! VRRP!**

"Sir, would you come to the side please," Said the awfully imposing stag guard on duty. Dimitri complied and it seemed he was in the cool, until the guard found Dimitri's Electric Harpoon gun from his scuba gear holstered in his jacket.

"Never leave home without it, eh bro?" He said with a smug grin.

"I am immeasurably sorry sir," the stag started, "but even with forgoing the lax black-tie rule, you absolutely cannot carry that inside to the function. I'm sorry but please leave, I have far too much integrity to betray my employer with such crass negligence. Nuh uh, nope, not me, never ever, never in a million years would **I** let you in with such a violent dangerous object. So go away before I call the guards to, how's it go, 'Rough you up,'?"

"Chill down, bro, set feet at ease and mind at rest." Dimitri said reassuringly, pulling out a fantastically large roll of currency, "I believe these to be the proper documents?"

"American?"

"Only the best."

"Well good sir! I bid you, and, to a lesser extent, you frighteningly large associate; a most flamboyant welcome."

"Smooth," Sly, said over the mike.

"Yeah," Murray said, "but wasn't that a bit too much?"

"That's the idea trippo hippo," Dimitri said when out of the guard's earshot.

"Well try not to cause another scene like that one will you?" Bentley said over optimistically.

"No trouble, no mind," Dimitri said with a grin as he approached the double doors, "I never ever do the same portrait twice y'know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"….No seriously, what does that mean?"

And with a flourish Dimitri kicked open the double doors to the party SWAT team style, got into a "Saturday Night Fever" disco pose and announced to all those in attendance; "Et voila! Ze good times are here to stay, le Dimitri has ARRIVED!!"

The looks such a crass and outlandish action drew were severely varied. But rather than go over the expressions of all in attendance, let's go over the main player's faces.

Bentley was so angry to see anyone on one of **his** precious missions screw up so severely, on purpose no less. His teeth were clenched so tightly that if someone were to tell him anything more irksome than the milk went bad, not only would he break every single tooth in his head, but he'd break every tooth he's **ever** had, every tooth he'll ever have in his next life, and his head would've exploded.

Penelope and Sly were mirrors of each other, covering their mouths and snorting to stifle laughs directed not only at Dimitri, but at Bentley when they saw how funny his face was when contorted with anger.

The Guru's face however sported a rather lovely shade of puzzlement. Being oblivious to Dimitri's actions, he wondered what was so funny, had they not noticed him hollowing out the doughnut bag's husk?

Murray hid a grin and shed a tear resembling that of an indian seeing trash on a highway. Because at that moment, he was so happy to make the realization that there was in fact a bigger screw up on the team than he.

But the Panda King's was best of all. For first time since…well ever, he lost his pristine stone like composer and stared at the iguana with a mixture of confusion, anger and a slight hint of fear. It was one of those looks that said, "We're dead, we're dead, we're dead and it's all your fault."

However, contrary to the King's beliefs, there were no guards storming the door, pistols drawn, no shout heralding their expulsion from the festivities, indeed, no action at all was taken aside from a few scathing remarks whispered, a polite laugh here and there, and several disgusted snorts. It started to dawn on The Panda King just how horrifically Dimitri's wild nature and binge drinking has affected his reputation as a criminal.

But furthermore, as the party wore on, one the gang had started to notice something as they watched the world famous lounge lizard mix and mingle with the party goers, calling out a large amount of them on a first name basis, without them saying something resembling; "Up yours pal!". Apparently, due to his "artistic" talents Dimitri had become a sort of semi-famous underworld celebrity. Somehow it was a good thing to be seen with Dimitri, what had the world come to?

"Well, well, well, that is quite unexpected," came a voice from behind the duo when they were by one of the various food tables, for the last three minutes The Panda King had been trying the spinage dip with various crackers, trying to determine if the dip was off tasting due to too few mushroom stems or if the introduction of black olives was to blame, while Dimitri was wondering exactly how many times he could try every sample of the spread until he blew chunks.

They turned to see their "humble" host, Sir Raleigh the Frog with a fine crystal glass of brandy. He was accompanied by none other than the mad musician mobster Don Octavio. "Well this is a delight," the toad commented drolly, "My old friend Panda King and the world famous Dimitri, tonight is bringing out all sorts of cultured people."

"Most honorable Sir Raleigh," The Panda King said bowing deeply, "I humbly thank you for inviting me to your modest gathering and feast, may the sun bestow jewels and missions of good fortune upon your home."

"Hmm," Octavio said, "I lika the way this cannoli speaks, a bit too much like onea them treasure cookies, but he knows to show a little respect when it's owed. And a bass voice like dat, he'd soar inna the opera house. Least he would inna my day."

"Yes," Raleigh began, "I found that his eloquence in speech to be one of his most charming facets. And whilst we're on the subject of music, I believe that your former night club was a former opera hall, was it not Mr. Lousteau?"

"Last time I checked sog frog."

"Ah-ha-ha!" Octavio exclaimed with genuine glee in his eyes, "My heart, she's-a singing strong! Please you must tell me, what most frequented your halls, the scintillating sounds of Seville or did you fashion a more classical taste de la Carmen."

At that point, Dimitri's earpiece crackled to life once more, and Bentley coldly said this about his one time, would be murderer, "Raleigh's the only one we'll need, get rid of this wash out."

"Hah!" Dimitri broke out, "That old junk? They was harshing my groove bro. I took one look at that stogy fogy stuff and was all like 'puh-LEASE!' I cleared that place out and pumped it full of some real smooth rock and roll, hardcore, y'know?"

"I see," Octavio said, speaking more with a snarl than anything, "If you'll ascuse me, I find it rather stuffy all of a sudden wise." And with that; he left, his face turning from orange to a deep, almost cartoonish scarlet, not quite hidden by his signature porcelain mask.

"Well now what could have gotten to him?" Raleigh said genuinely perplexed.

"Excuse me," The Panda King began, "but how do you know so much about my associate?"

"Ah, that **is** a good question," Raleigh said grinning widely. He then snapped his gloved fingers.

As if magically summoned by some spell, a strapping six foot tall tiger in formal dress, from his bow tie to his coat with tails, stood at Sir Raleigh's right hand. With a deep, rolling voice, that was caked with power, he said, "Yes sir?"

At least half a minute went by until in silence, no great deal of recognition sprung for from anyone, until…

"Well," Raleigh began, "please say hello to my guests **Rajan**."

The Panda King clenched his teeth to keep from laughing, which was no easy task when he could hear Sly, Bentley, and Murray laughing in abundance through his earpiece. He'd heard of the Lord of The Hills, and greatly respected the man and his work, but to see him so humbled and reduced to being a mere servant to so tedious a task master as Raleigh, it actually caused him physical pain not to laugh, Dimitri saw no need to go through such torture.

"AH-HAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!" After this charming statement, Dimitri said with tears of joy in his eyes, "Oh how the snooty they have fallen. Wasn't it you who said 'Never ever in a million years will I ever let you even **think** about going to my party at my new ancestral home, or even give you the time of day'? Well what time is it now hotshot?"

Rajan then closed his eyes and concentrated every fiber of his being into not eviscerating this tedious little gecko standing so smugly before him, using such arguments as 'You need this job,' 'What if your mother heard that you ate his heart out, hmm?' but the winning argument was; 'Okay, yeah, sure, it'll feel great when you gut him like a fish, no questions asked about that, but what about afterwards? That night with Sari in Delhi was great too, but who ended up with their wallet missing and an annoying itch in a **very **inconvenient place, hmm?' So with this moral dilemma solved, slowly, carefully, trying to ignore the chorus in his head saying 'eat him,' he said, "It is 11:07, local time."

"11:07 local time what?"

"11:07 local time…sir."

"Actually Mister Lousteau," Sir Raleigh said, ending the public torture session, "I had been hoping to discuss your art technique. I deeply admire your work, and I'm certain with four great minds such as ours we can come up with a splendid critique for my work. My home is well within the area."

"Panda King," Bentley crackled in, "I need to test a theory, leave Raleigh to Dimitri. Get rid of Rajan if you can, he's too dangerous to have around."

"Regrettably," Panda King began, "I promised to meet an associate."

"Splendid!" Sir Raleigh said, grinning widely, "We'll bring him along and I'll give you a full tour of my gallery."

"A** lady** associate."

"Oh, well say no more. If there is anything you need, my servant Rajan will be available to you."

"Actually, if he'd be so kind to fetch me some tea, a pekoe, mandarin blend would be perfect."

"Excellent choice…sir," Rajan said flatly, forcing the last word out as if he'd been force fed rat poison. Then just as quickly as he'd appeared, he vanished into the crowd.

The Panda King wandered off from the others and up onto a balcony as per Bentley's orders.

"Now what are the odds, Sly started over the mike, "of you, Octavio and Dimitri being invited to a party hosted by a coupla guys who'd gladly have me as a head over their fireplaces."

"Slim I'd assume Cooper," Panda King intoned to the mike softly.

"Panda King," Bentley said, "sweep your gaze over the crowd."

Doing as told, Panda King looked upon the partygoers and in turn gave the camera hidden on him a full view of everyone in attendance.

"Aw, geez," Sly said over the mike.

"Okay I think I'm a little out of the loop," Penelope said, breaking her silence, "What's the big deal, it's just a bunch of crooks just like we knew there would be."

"No Penelope, you don't understand."

"HOLY COW!" Murray exclaimed, "IT'S THAT GUY WE RIPPED OFF WAY BACK IN MEXICO CITY ON ONE OF OUR FIRST GIGS!!"

"Gadzooks!" Bentley said, "It's just as I feared. We gotta get out of here now!!"

"Why!?" Penelope asked fearfully, "What's wrong!?"

"Penelope, this party is filled with nothing but crooks we've stolen from in the past, people who've spent **years** in jail due to me, Sly, and Murray."

I'll get the van ready," Murray said sweating bullets.

"Wait," Bentley said, "something's happening with Dimitri and Raleigh."

"So," Dimitri said, taking a hearty swig from his own brandy glass, "What's zis I hear about someone sticking it to that stick-boy cracker-box, Sly Cooper?"

"Oh, so you've heard about that?" Raleigh said gleefully, cherishing the audience he's been granted with this world class crook and renaissance man, "Well, **I** know all about it. It was actually one of the runts annoying friends, the turtle I think. In fact I don't think there is anything I don't know about them. The party and the guest list were put forward under their orders, I should know, I handle all their finances." He then downed the last bit of sherry in his glass with a tipsy grin.

"…We can't leave," Sly said solemnly.

This was the start to a looooong night.

* * *

And that's Chapter 2 kiddies! I know it took me a while to update, but in my defense, it's a long chapter. Also, it has come to my attention that maybe my story description isn't eye catching or interesting enough to get as many readers and therefore people to remind me to update this blasted thing often, something I really do want you guys to do. Seriously, **YELL AT ME TO GET TO WORK!** It makes things easier. But I digress, if you guys would be so kind as to write a better story description, that would be fantastic, I'll choose the best one within two weeks after this update.

And finally, giving credit to where credit is due, time to say hello to those crazy kids who've boosted my ego this last chapter;

**Penguins Are The Power:** Thank you, when I first came up with the Idea of writing this, I more or less thought how Sucker Punch would go about making a fourth game's script. And that's what this story is more or less.

**dragondancer123: **Well when I thought up this story, I knew that I wanted the people to recognize who's talking. I mean sure, I tag "said Sly," or "Murray whispered," around each bit of dialogue, but some fanfics out there do the same thing and it really doesn't sound like something the character would say, y'know? And that's something I really didn't want to do. So thank you for your praise, it means a lot.

Okay kids, in the immortal words of Tigger, TTFN! Oh and please read and review, it would mean a lot to me. Be seeing you.


	4. The Terror Reborn Phase 1

Alrighty then boys and goils, for my next trick I present chapter the third, in which our heroes admire art, fire the employees, and hijack a fork truck.

* * *

"Okay people," Bentley said, he'd set up his chair's mini projector and had it aimed at a wall in the house's kitchen. "The situation has become complicated, to say the least." He pressed a button on his chair to bring up an image. It was an image of the party. **CLICK.** "It's obvious that, while excluding some, this place is filled with guys who'd like to shoot, stab, behead, and generally blow us up." **CLICK.** It was Raleigh's mug shot from the old Fiendish Five file. "Unfortunately thanks to Raleigh's admission, we can't straight up run away." **CLICK.** A computer's silhouette with white question mark at it's center. "The obvious goal is Raleigh's business computer. I've already hacked into his network, but no such luck finding anything useful. So it's probably not connected to anything linking to the outside right now. We must strike tonight. We won't get another chance where the guards are so distracted, so here's what we're gonna do." **CLICK** A white utility van. "First, we're going to hijack this truck and steal it's cargo of plastic forks," **CLICK** Dimitri and Raleigh's faces, "Next, Dimitri will use his influence with Raleigh and gain access to his home, locating the computer," **CLICK** The London rooftops, "Finally, something's got to be done about the amount of rooftop guards if we hope to obtain any form of effective second story work. Once all that's done, we'll be ready for phase two."

* * *

**A Fleece of Forks

* * *

  
**

"Sly, are you in position yet?" Bentley crackled over the mike.

"No, I just decided to go out and buy a whole bunch of ice-cream. Say, let's forget this whole mission altogether."

"Cut the comedy act, are you in position or not?"

"Yeah pal." Sly was crouched on the roof of a two story office building, waiting for Rajan to drive through. "I don't get it, I mean I have just as much fun driving ol' claws 'n' jaws up the wall just as much as the next guy, but over a bunch of plastic forks?"

"Trust me it's a vital part of my master plan. When we make a play for the computer, we'll need a way of keeping our "friends" from chasing us down."

"And we'll do this…with plastic forks?"

"EXACTLY!"

"Oookay."

"Need I mention a certain water tower, hmm?"

"Alright, alright, forgive me, oh wise one, for ever doubting you."

"Whatever, Rajan should be rounding the corner about now."

Sly saw it, a regular white utility van, with a black and orange striped fist at the wheel. Sly leapt down onto the Cooper van in just enough time for Bentley to pull it in front of Rajan, Murray had it modified for Bentley's personal use.

The look on Rajan's face was priceless. It was like the initial look of shock and confusion seen on a parent's face when they're at a mall in December, when the particularly scary Santa realizes that a four year old relieved themselves on him. You know, the "Oh my god. Did **Santa** just say **that**?" face.

And as amusing as it was to see it on Rajan's of all faces, Sly quickly turned it to the anger exhibited on the "HEY! THAT KID JUST STOLE MY WALLET!!!" face. There was no reason at all for the face to change so quickly to anger, none whatsoever. Unless of course you take into account Sly's throwing of eggs at the van (Rajan's, not his) and crude gestures involving a butt (his, not Rajan's).

This enraged Rajan and he put the pedal to the metal, burnt rubber and hit the pavement, and other famous sayings involving cars and how angry people make them go fast. **CRASH! **He rammed his van into the back of the Cooper Van, in hopes of knocking Sly from his perch and kill him.

"Is he chasing us!?!" Bentley asked exasperatedly.

**CRASH! **"What do you think?" Sly replied irritatedly, doing his best to keep his balance on the top of the van.

"Sorry it's just been awhile since Murray let me drive this thing." **CRASH!** "Listen, just deploy the spike bombs."

Sly reached into his side pouch and pulled out his secret weapon. The idea was Murray's and roughly simple, duct tape some nails to Bentley's bombs. "Crude, but effective," was the turtle's response to this stroke of genius.

Sly tossed a couple at Rajan's van. The Tiger swerved to avoid the bombs, but the explosion still riddled the van, and more importantly it's tires, with nails. Huge Cheshire cat-esqe grin spread across Sly's face when he heard the snake-like hiss of the tires as they lost air. However, his moment of triumph did not last, his grin disappeared when he heard the hissing abruptly stop.

"The bombs are a bust pal. The nails punctured, but there's no air coming out." Sly said into the mike.

"Drat! Raleigh must've gone all out and bought self sealing tires. We'll have to switch to plan B."

That's when Sly caught sight of something, important. He noticed that Rajan's van slowed back from his, probably being wary incase Sly had anything else to chuck at him. Sly didn't, but what was important was that he saw Rajan pick up a walkie-talkie and say something, wearing a grin that makes children cry.

"Bentley, I think we got trouble coming."

"No joke 'bout that one mate," came a voice from behind Sly. He wheeled around and side stepped just in time to avoid the brass knuckled right hook of a rabbit dressed in dirty work out sweat clothes. The rabbit followed up with a right back hand and left jab, and as quick as Sly was, it wasn't easy to avoid the assault, this guy was an expert boxer, he should know, he's on a team with one of the best. Not that that would stop him. The guy threw a right jab, Sly side stepped it and got inside the guy's range of targeting. Hooking his cane around the guy's neck, Sly pulled with one arm and did some dental work with the other arm's elbow. And whilst bunny boy was preoccupied spitting out teeth and blood, Sly hooked the guy's leg and flung him off the van.

"Well that wasn't that hard," Sly said huffing and puffing a bit.

**Thump. Thump. Thump.** "Oh, really?"

Sly turned to see three more rabbits ready for a go at the title shot. He looked up to see a small crowd of them keeping up fairly well on the rooftops.

"Okay, that's enough of this nonsense," Bentley said as he put his foot through the floor, metaphorically speaking, the van's speed was switch operated to be perfectly honest. Sly barely had time to hook his cane into the van's roof before it bolted down the narrow street. The rabbit assailants didn't fare so well, nor did the three remaining eggs in Sly's side pouch. The eggs in question landed beautifully on Rajan's windshield, infuriating the former Lord of The Hills to throw caution to the wind and follow the Cooper van bumper to bumper. It was this decision that sealed his fate.

He followed the Cooper van into a dead end alleyway, seeing nothing but red, else wise he'd have noticed the scrawny mouse girl waiting by the gate's door. The alley opened up and ended in a quad. Rajan parked his van so that it was impossible for Bentley to drive out, he didn't need to, Penelope locked the chain linked gate of the quad the second Rajan passed by. To be honest, she almost felt sorry for him.

Rajan got out of his van and slammed the door. "COOPER!" he roared, "I SHALL GLADLY DINE UPON YOUR HEART THIS NIGHT!"

"Yeah, sure thing pal," Sly chuckled from atop the van, "But my friend here just might have something to say about that." That's when the back doors to the van opened up and from it emerged the massive form of The Murray. He took a glancing look at damage to his van, and despite being a connoisseur of such fine works of destruction, he was not pleased.

"I hope you got a big wallet," Murray said with a frown, "because you've written checks your face can't pay."

"HA!" Rajan exclaimed, "You wound me Cooper, sending your lackey to dispatch me."

"Listen chump! I may not be a genius, but I know when some punk is making fun of me. I'm gonna sweep the floor with you for what you did to my van," then Murray grinned, "It'll be like the old days way back in India."

Murray could tell that Rajan wasn't amused by this comment. Maybe it was the way Rajan's eyes narrowed in anger, maybe it was the way he snarled after the comment, or maybe it was the fact that Rajan bared his claws and lunged at Murray, intending to take his head off. I don't know, but one thing was for certain: the fight was on.

Murray barely had time to duck as the tiger soared over him. And despite the speed he was traveling at, Rajan was able to twist in mid air and land feet first on the van and pounce at Murray from behind. Rajan then spring boarded off of Murray, using his hands, and landed on his feet, light as a feather.

"I think you'll find this match a bit different from India," Rajan said, cracking his claws, "I relied far too much on Clockwerk's feeble heart to win the fight for me. I won't make that mistake again."

"Murray," Sly said, "He's right, his fighting style's completely different from way back when. Will you need a hand?"

"I can handle it Sly," Murray said, getting up from the ground, "So he's a little faster, whoop-de-freakin'-do. Besides, after what he did to **my **van? This chump is thumped."

"Okay just be- LOOK OUT!"

Rajan had launched into the offensive again. His claws bared, he was a black and orange missile heading straight for Murray. Murray didn't have time to duck this time. All he could do move his arm to block.

Rajan bounced back after making his blow, and was amazed to see that instead of a Swiss cheesed limb hanging pitifully at Murray's side, he was starring at an arm in pristine condition. Murray grinned and said, "My turn." After that, all Rajan saw was a pink blur. He heard three bangs, like out of a child's pop gun, and felt pain, not any specific kind, but lots of it. Murray had rushed back and sidestepped away from the van, taking up the defensive again.

"Left claw, wide swing," Murray said, he brought up right arm and moved it forward slightly to catch the inside of Rajan's attack, avoiding the nails but blocking the blow. The swing was a left claw.

Rajan had messed up and paid for using such a flashy, obvious attack, he heard two pops and felt a lot of pain between his eyes. Rajan then moved forward and ducked down moving his right arm into an upward attack position. Then his heart sank when he heard, "Rising uppercut." He was already too deep into the move to stop and he felt his fingers intertwine with Murray's, stopping the attack. Then his eyes watered as his head was ragdolled to the left, by what felt like a ton of bricks.

"Geez!" Murray exclaimed, almost outraged by the easy win, "I've left things in toilets that put up more of a fight than this!" It was a mean crude statement that would severely PO anyone it was directed at, that anyone was Rajan. For him it was the final straw, Rajan pushed past all his pain and went into a full body pounce at the hippo. Murray saw it coming from a mile away, he ducked and just as the tiger was directly overhead; he sent his fist up like a rocket directly into Rajan's stomach. The fight was over.

"Wow, Murray," Sly began, "I've never seen you fight like that, usually you just rush in and go berserk."

"It's from my training. The Guru taught me to study my opponent's body and by seeing how their muscles and footing shift I can predict their movements."

"Kinda creepy, but cool."

"Oh, it's **way** cool...but still creepy."

"Well that goes without saying."

They both turned to Rajan's beaten form when they heard laughed as he spluttered up blood. "So what now *cough cough* Cooper Gang? I know full well you don't kill and there's no two timing hypnotist to save you this time."

"Well actually," Bentley began with a grin, as he rolled up beside the other two. "There is, WELL! Speak of the devil." Bentley looked up to see the Panda King's massive form descend from the roof top, carrying the minuscule Guru on his back.

"We have done as you asked turtle," Panda King said, "The minds of all witnesses have been seen to."

"Excellent!" Bentley exclaimed, "Rajan, I am pleased to introduce you to a good friend of mine, we call him The Guru."

* * *

**Locations, Locations, Locations,

* * *

**

"I'm sure you'll find my personal gallery just fabulous." Raleigh said, positively glowing. He had taken Dimitri to his home, and was thrilled to get a critique from such a famous artist. He closed the front door and started walking, saying, "I find my work's structure to adhere heavily to the classical form."

"STRUCTURE!?! CLASSICAL FORM!?! THE!?!" Dimitri said positively outraged, "THESE THINGS DO NOT MAKE ART!!! Art is all 'BANG' 'SMASH' and everywhere, like fireworks or a mugging! It is not about '_structure_' '_form_' and certainly not zis word '_the_'." Dimitri finished smugly. Or at least he would have if this annoying little voice, that sounded an awful lot like Penelope's, didn't go off from his binoc-u-com's earpiece.

"Remember," Penelope said from the other end, "no screw ups. You're the only guy that can get in there right now, and with a place that big; we might not be able to find the computer if we're in a hurry."

So with this ingrained into him, Dimitri sunk his head and said, in a piteous voice, "That sounds cool."

"Hmph, 'cool' he says," Raleigh said, "It is indeed very 'cool'. We shall review in the western wing of my mansion. I reserve this wing for only my closest business associates and most honored guests."

"Don't slouch," Penelope said sharply, "and say 'thank you' for chriss-sakes. Didn't your mother give you better manners than that?"

That's when Raleigh saw Dimitri, all of a suddenly, walk suspiciously upright, and, in the manner of a child being scolded, say, "Thank you."

Such impeccable manners, Raleigh thought, and what eccentricity he has. This man must truly be a great and inspired genius.

Dimitri was completely oblivious to such thoughts and feelings, he was just grateful that Raleigh hadn't caught him picking his nose and wiping it off on some old looking blanket tacked to the wall, to be honest it was actually a tapestry from the Elizabethan Era, hand made in Sir Francis Drake's honor, but that's not important (A/N: Hey kids! If you look up this time era, you'll laugh even harder at what Dimitri did.).

"Don't do that," Penelope scolded.

"Sorry," Dimitri mumbled.

"What was that?" Raleigh inquired.

"Uh, I'm just so sorry, that I couldn't be here in the sooner, y'know bro? This place has smooth groove, it says, 'LOOK AT ME! I'm like really REALLY RICH!' Do you hear what I am downloading to you?"

"...YES! PERFECTLY!" Raleigh lied, but he assumed what was said must be very good.

"Yes that's it!" Penelope chimed in, "make him feel good and maybe he'll give you the grand tour."

"Are you trying to be of the funny with me?" Dimitri mumbled into the mike.

"Hmm?" Raleigh said, almost as if on cue.

"Uh...Did I mention exactly how wonderfully lovely your choice in wall paper is? It sings to me, saying, 'HEY! Look at me , I'm wallpaper!' IT IS GENIOUS! I utterly cannot wait to see your work."

"Well it's just baby blue number thirteen wallpaper."

"And it is bril- to the-liant man! Did you pick it out yourself?"

"Well," Raleigh said, blushing profusely, fidgeting his hands like a slightly embarrassed school girl, "...I did."

"I should have known. SLAP ME! For I have been struck the dumb."

"Well my gallery is just in here," Raleigh said indicating a room coming up on their right.

They entered and Dimitri's first thought was 'racooper?' Every painting, on every wall, was a poorly crafted mock up of Sly with abnormally large, stupid teeth wearing a dunce cap, and each and every 'Sly' was about to be subjected to some horrible fate. Dimitri was particularly fond of one that featured 'Sly' bound and to a chair with a grenade stuffed in his mouth and it's pin pulled by a particularly familiar frog like figure.

"Well?" Raleigh said, unable to stop grinning, "What do you think?"

"They're...racoons?"

"Not just any raccoons. I feel they're very generous representations of that insufferable mammal, _**Sly Cooper**_." Raleigh finished coldly.

"Uh-huh."

"Which you're supposed to hate, remember?" Penelope quipped.

"WAIT! Did you say 'Sly Cooper'?"

"Why yes I did," Raleigh answered, "What did you think I said?"

"Something about walnuts to be true bro. But Sly Cooper? Oh, I loathe the miserable little cracker-box. *Ptoowie* I spit on the name. Man if I ever get my mitts on that funny bunny racooper, I'll be all like 'BLAMA SLAM!' all over his face and families!"

"YES! I thought you'd understand. But I have spent far too much time talking about Cooper-"

*Ptoowie!*

"Yes, could you stop spitting on my carpet? Anyways, I must return to the party."

"No!" Penelope exclaimed, "We have to find the location of his computer!"

"I GOTTA CHECK MY MAIL!" Dimitri shouted, "I mean, I'm like in the middle of a bidding war over some Poke-oh! cards online, and I might as well go ice-skating in cement overshoes if I wear le failure."

"Poke-oh!?" Raleigh questioned, "The children's game?"

"Yeah...they're a real good sohoe for the artsy mojo, dude."

"Interesting," Raleigh said, taking out his walkie-talkie, "RAJAN!" he shouted into it.

"Ow, yes sir?" Rajan deep voice carried in from the other end.

"Make sure that by the time you've made your return with those forks, that you have not only secured Mr. King's tea, but at least twenty packs of Poke-oh! cards along with you!"

"...Yes sir." Rajan said groggily.

"...HAVE YOU BEEN DRINKING!?! I don't pay you to get liquored up, you shameful waste of skin!"

"No sir...I think I was in a car accident maybe...I don't know. I'm in a lot of pain, I think I should seek medical assistance. Can I have the rest of the night off?"

"NO!" and with that, Raleigh clicked off his walkie-talkie. "Honestly, good help is so hard to find these days. My goodness, look at the time! I must return to the other guests. You'll find a computer in the next room over."

Dimitri and Raleigh left the room. Dimitri entered the next room over, and as promised, at wooden desk a single computer hummed silently.

"Brilliant!" Penelope said, "Put in the disk Bentley gave you along with all that spy stuff." Dimitri did as was told, but all his valiant efforts were met with a; "Darn! This isn't the right computer, it must be somewhere else."

"Uh scuse?"

"How will we ever find it now?"

"Miss Mopey Lopey?"

"I mean that place is just so big, it'd take a while to find the thing and even longer if there's some complex stuff guarding it."

"HEY!"

"What is it Dimitri!?!"

"I think I found it."

"What?"

"I...think...I...found...ze...computer."

"What makes you think that?"

Dimitri adjusted the camera on his jacket to show the hallway filled with lazers, tripwires, cameras, automated gun turrets and all sorts of whatnot. And of course, at the end of the myriad of death, destruction, and all around unpleasantness sat a computer on a desk.

"You found it!"

"Of course! Did you think zat the silky smooth Dimitri the D'acorrd ever fail!?! Nuh uh, not with this much muscle!"

"Yeah...when you get done making out with yourself, get back to the party."

"Uh that would taka so much time, I don't think there is ever enough love to go be spread on zis hot slice, y'know?"

"...No I don't."

* * *

**Super Fight Night 3000!

* * *

**

"So, what are we doing here?" Sly asked. He, Bentley and Murray were standing out in front of a boxing gym called "The Fit Pit". From the sounds of it, there was a party going on inside there too.

"Well," Bentley started, "thanks to Dimitri's efforts, I was able to hack into to the list of guard shifts. My disk ran the numbers and according to my data, this is when the highest number of guards scheduled for rooftop duty are on or about to go off break. My sources tell me that the local muscle Raleigh hired all hangout at this place."

"Wait," Murray broke in, "We're just going to waltz in and mop the floor with these chumps?"

"More or less."

"RIGHTEOUS!"

"I see," Sly said, "with this many guys out of commission, I'll be free to work the rooftops."

"Yeah, but we're going to have to look like a threat, for them to take us seriously. Bentley get into a scary face!"

Bentley, gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow, and brought his upper lip and nose to a sneer. With this, Bentley looked utterly and totally...unfrightening. To be honest, if you were to look up the word unfrightening, it'd be almost assured that it'd be Bentley's face next to the definition. But never the less, they went in.

"Okay," Bentley said, through gritted teeth, "No need being polite here. Murray, would you do the honors?"

Murray looked around and was satisfied to see it was your average run of the mill gym, then he said, "WHEW! THIS PLACE SMELLS LIKE A DUMP! BUT I GUESS THAT ISN'T SO SURPRISING SEEING AS HOW THIS PLACE IS INFESTED WITH LOSERS!" And with this bold statement, all the rabbits stopped from their various activities of weight lifting, relaxing, or generally beating up each other to look at some fat guy, a skinny stick raccoon holding a stick and some short guy in a wheelchair who looked like he was either constipated or having a stroke. From the rudeness of the statement, they weren't there to discuss the lord.

"OI!" one of the gym goers shouted "What's got you lads so uppity, there're easier ways to kill yourselves."

"Hardly," Sly said, "Was Raleigh blind or just plain stupid when he decided to throw his money away on trash like you?"

"Okay Skinny," another boxer piped in, "Your mouth's writing checks the rest of your body can't pay."

"Please," Bentley broke in, "Try that on a toddler, and maybe you'll scare him if you're lucky."

"What's that?" said another boxer who was really starting to get hot under the collar.

"OOOOH!" Murray started again, "I'm shaking in my boots. You chumps couldn't beat an egg, much less the three of us."

"We'll see about that," Said one of the rabbits who decided to play ring leader, "LET'S GET' EM LADS!" It was on.

Sly rushed forward to meet three guys head on. He jumped up and brought his cane down square in the middle of the first guy's head, not only removing him from the fight, but also taking away his ability to do math good. Using the same downward momentum, Sly went into a crouch and twisted the same force to his left until it met up with his adversary's legs, effectively sweeping him. Sly then backed into the chest of his third opponent so as to get within his enemy's range of attack. He then hooked his cane around the back of the guy's hoodie and flung him onto the guy Sly sweeped.

That's when Sly saw his next opponent. Saying this guy was huge was understating it. Muggshot was huge, Panda King was huge, the big blown up gorilla balloons you see at used car lots were huge, this guy was beyond huge. This guy was so buff, he could probably lift weights with his hair. While other people talked about eating nails 'n' crapping thunder, he lived it. He was so big that if you threw a pencil at him; it'd get caught in his gravitational pull. Did I mention that he was big?

Sly closed his eyes, he'd a good life, not long but good, and to be honest, he actually never considered himself dying at the hands of a giant Easter bunny to be among the list of possible deaths he might encounter, I mean seriously, who could **ever** see that one coming? The rabbit lifted one huge, trash can sized meat hook, preparing to pop Sly into the ground like a railroad spike. Then the rabbit just fell forward flat on his face.

Sly was shocked and confused. Maybe the guy knew who he was and couldn't take the pressure of being the guy who bumped off Sly Cooper. Maybe, the guy had contracted, suffered though and died due to a rare disease only he could contract and it all happened within the last twelve seconds. Or maybe, just maybe, as crazy as it sounds, it could be due to the two-hundred and ninety-five darts sticking out of his back. The world may never know.

Sly wouldn't get the chance to thank Bentley right then and there; the turtle had some issues at the moment, five of them to be exact, all cracking their knuckles.

"You're going to get it now, shorty," one of the rabbits said, grinning.

"Yeah!" another one intoned, "After the way you shot Big Nick, in the back? You got no one to blame but yourself."

"You guys do realize," Bentley started, "That you're heavily outnumbered, right? Now, please don't make me hurt you."

"HA! You must be blinder than those coke bottle glasses say."

"I tried to be nice," Bentley whispered to himself. He then pressed a button on his chair and curled up inside his shell, just as two mini jet engines popped out of the chairs. Bentley's chair surged forward like a runaway train, knocking over two of the guys he was duking it out with. He then popped out of his shell, and pressed a button. Two rabbits closed in on him from either side, they reached for him and received a justly deserved spring loaded boxing glove right in their guts. The last guy grabbed Bentley by the scruff of his shell, and was very surprised to find the turtle obligingly lean into him. And even more so when the turtle used his helmeted head to knock half the buck off his teeth. Bentley finished the job on his end by shooting each opponent on the ground, with cold blooded accuracy.

He then checked how the others were doing. Sly was participating in a new form of croquet; he used his cane to knock the side of one enemy's head, which in turn knocked into the next enemy's head and so forth and on. But the real show was happening on Murray's end of the gym.

They'd formed a circle around Murray, each going for the title shot. One young buck jumped in and fired three jabs into Murray's face at machine gun speed. Now this would have been impressive if he hadn't broken his hand on the third punch. Now Murray, always a fan of symmetry (even if he couldn't pronounce it) reached out one rough meat hook and crumpled the other one, then he tucked the little guy in by bringing a ham hock sized fist down on top of his head and **BOP!** knocked him through the floor boards. Two lucky felling fellows came at him from behind, just in time for him to spin around and grab them by the scruff of their shirts. Murray grinned at his brand new, shiny, rabbit shaped clubs. The hippo rampaged and started pummeling the mob with their own.

Now I don't know if you've ever been clubbed by your own friends but let me tell you, as humorous as it sounds, you will have no idea how to take it, and the rabbits certainly had enough of this. Those that hadn't become victims rushed to the only available exit which was blocked by Sly and Bentley. Bereft of any exit they tried in vain to fight their way to freedom. At the other edge of the panicked crowd a foolish rabbit set up a table, hoping that would prolong the beating that was due to him from Murray. In all actuality, it made things oh so much worse. Murray ran jumped and spring boarded of the strained table high above the crowd.

"THUNDERFLOP!" was the last thing any of them heard before surrendering to the blackness as they were flattened by Murray or flung to the walls by the force of hippo's ferocious attack.

"Well," Bentley said, huffing and puffing, "I think we're ready for phase two."

* * *

TADAAA!!! I'm very sorry, this chapter is long overdue, but apparently my school feels that this whole education thing is important and I should strive to better myself 'n' stuff so they (being the sloppy knob polishers that they are) weighted me down with enough homework to ensure I don't even have time to beat off, much less work on this story. So I do apologize for my tardiness, I'll try harder in the future.

SO!!!

**man:** I'm trying, trust me I'm trying.

**linda: **Here's your new chapter, MERRY CHRISTMAS! And if I were to tell you if they got back together, then there wouldn't be a reason for you to read would there?

**Winnow:** I DID! I DID! PLEASE YELL MORE!

**CC:** Well, what you gotta remember about Carmelita is that she's a detective and has been able to dog Sly all over the world, plus she might not have gone so hard on Sly since she liked him.

**Green Phantom Queen:** Thank you, sincerely thank you. I loved your review, it came at a difficult time for me when writing this chapter, and to call me a diamond in the rough is really appreciated.

**dragondancer123:** I am truly immeasurably sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. I thank you for toughing it out for so long.

I will try to update sooner. PLZ R+R.


	5. The Terror Reborn Phase 2

And now!!! Without the safety of a net!!! I present to you, chapter the fourth!!! In which our heroes look on the lighter side , steal cookware and enjoy hats.

"Okay guys," Bentley said in the kitchen, "With our first string of jobs done, we're ready for phase two." **CLICK **A picture of the computer in it's vault. "Now all our attention must focus on getting through the vault. I don't need to tell you that's some serious steel we're dealing with." **CLICK** A map of the area with three locations highlighted, "Now first up, we're going to need the schematics for the vault, Raleigh's not foolish enough to destroy them, and he'd keep 'em close by. He owns, the restaurant the ball is at, the Fit Pit and of course his mansion. All are prime suspects." **CLICK **A big steel stove "Next, I'll be needing one of the stoves in the restaurant, trust me, the one we have here won't work for what I have in mind."** CLICK **Concert search lights. "And I'll also need snapshots of these lights. Okay guys, we know our mission, let's move out."

* * *

**Cakes, Caps, and Weirdoes**

**

* * *

**

The Guru sat in an alley across the way from the side gate to Raleigh's mansion, when Bentley fizzled in on the binoc-u-com.

"Okay Guru, that's Raleigh's mansion."

"Me shurpa bah ha ha?"

"The big expensive looking one. Listen, you have to get in there and search the place for Raleigh's vault schematics."

"Wuda wudai?"

"No I'm not getting back at you for the doughnut thing! This is serious!"

"Iya wudo, wuda ha?"

"Well normally I would send Sly, but he's getting in position for his job, and none of us can turn into rocks or trash cans at will, it's gotta be you."

"Iya mida ho?

"Well you're the master of disguise here, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

The Guru darted out of the alleyway and across the street, but abruptly stopped when he heard someone coming. He'd transformed just as a buck guard rounded the corner, still wearing a tuxedo.

"'Go guard the secret vault schematics' he says," the guard muttered to himself, "'It's what I pay you for' he says. *Sniff* I'm not stupid. He's the one getting spooked cause a bunch of thieves and thugs beat up on each other. So what if they decided to do it in their own gym?" That's when his flashlight beam hit the Guru, "That's strange. A boulder in the middle of the road? Hmm, that's refreshing." That's when the guard noticed his poor suffering hooves, "I guess no one'll miss me for a few minutes." He sat down on the rock, "Hmm, kinda hard, I wonder if it's like a pillow." And so he gave the boulder a few good punches, trying to fluff it. "Nope, that didn't work. Oh, well." *BRRRT!* "Oops, 'scuse me. Guess I shouldn't have had all that chili. It's a good thing no one's around cause man is that FOUL! Well, guess I better get back to work."

The guard stood up and started back towards the mansion just as the boiled lobster on a fancy silver platter several feet away from the boulder turned back into the Guru. The Guru leapt onto the guard and took control of his mind. The guard knew he was in danger, he lost control of his body and felt his mind starting to go too. So he did the only logical thing at this juncture, he tried to fight it. But he was losing, he wanted to go inside the mansion, he wanted to steal the plans to the vault, and somewhere deep at the back of these thoughts, he wanted doughnuts, a whole field of them, stretching as far as the eye could see. Within seconds, The Guru had complete control over his mind.

Using his new puppet, the Guru started to walk towards the mansion, well to be technical the guard did the walking, but that doesn't matter. The Guru started walking towards the mansion when another guard waltzed around the corner and saw them.

"Oh hey Gerald," the other guard said, "The toad's got you working the schematics too?"

"Heebie sheebie burhaha," Gerald replied.

"What?"

"I mean, YES! IT IS I! GERALD! Fellow coworker and employee of Raleigh the frog! Hello fellow peon."

"What's got into you, and what's with that boulder?"

"I have no idea."

"And why are you wearing that hat?"

"What hat?"

"The stuffed koala bear on your head."

"Oh! That hat, it's uh...it's uh...HAT DAY! Didn't you get the memo?"

"Dude, you know I never read that garbage. Oh, man, and I got a top hat that would look so good with this tux."

"You rest; you fail."

"Don't you mean, you snooze; you lose?"

"Yes, that one."

"...Are you okay? Maybe you should take the night off, I'll cover for you."

"No!...I mean, no I'm fine...uh..."

"Mike?"

"Right! Mike. Got it."

As much as Mike wanted to believe that his friend was okay, he was acting far too creepy to be normal, and he said so. "Wow Gerald, you're acting creepy, you're creepy Gerald."

"Yes, thank you, I know."

"Listen, we can't stay here jawing on all night, we have to get to the basement."

"YES! Let us do that."

"Listen Guru," Bentley crackled over the earpiece, "try to stay cool, we can't afford to have our existence alerted to Raleigh or any of his staff."

"I know," Gerald whispered for Guru, "It's just that I've never tried to control a mind this intimately for so long, it's causing mood swings and paranoia."

"What was that?" Mike said.

"My, what a lovely bush that is over there."

"Hmm, yeah I guess you're right."

The two walked in silence for some time. It wasn't until they were inside the mansion and met by another guard was the silence broken. This third guard posed a most intelligent, nearly philosophical, question.

"What's with the stupid hat?"

"Hat day," Mike said.

"Yeah," Gerald quipped, "didn't you get the memo?"

"Well that's not right," the third guard said. Incidentally, his name was Frank, not the cleverest of names I know, but hey, it's still a name dammit.

"'Course it is," Mike said reassuringly, "I miss those all the time."

"Noooo. I'm the guy who types up the memos. And I never posted anything for any hat day."

After this statement, an awkward silence followed, with all eyes resting on Gerald and his odd purple hat.

"Now," Gerald said, trying to sound reasonable, "I'm sure there a perfectly logical YOU'RE LIEING!!!" The Guru leapt from Gerald's head to Frank's, taking control of his mind.

Mike for the most part was perfectly dismayed. "You're not a hat at all, are you?" was the only realization he could make before the mentally unbalanced Frank grabbed a lamp from a nearby table and knocked both Mike and Gerald unconscious with it.

"GURU!" Bentley shouted over the binoc-u-com, "What the heck!?!"

"I was scared," Frank said.

"So you beat up two guys with a desk lamp?"

".......Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound like I screwed up."

"You did screw up! Look, whatever, just get the bodies out of sight before someone sees you."

The Guru mustered up his resolve, and using Frank's body, pulled both guards over to a nearby window.

"NOT LIKE THAT!!!" Bentley yelled, just as Frank opened the window, "Geez, you're just having an off night aren't you?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." Guru once again mustered up his resolve and dragged the two towards a nearby broom closet, just as yet another guard rounded the corner.

Ignoring the guards being stuffed into the closet or Frank's odd hat, this fourth guard said, "What happened to the desk lamp?"  
"...OH! This desk lamp?" Frank said, picking up the bent electric torch off the floor, walking towards the interloper, "Well you see-" **POW!**

"Okay this is getting out of hand," Bentley said, "just stuff that guy in the closet and get to the basement. I studied the house schematics, here's your path." The Guru heard a ping and turned to see a dark purple hologram marker pointing around the corner. After settling the guards in the closet in as comfortably as he could, he followed markers to a door that opened onto the stairs leading down into the darkness.

He walked into the center of this dark room once he reached the bottom of the stairs, then he saw it. A table at the far end of the room with a single dimly lit bulb above it. As he took a few more tentative steps towards it, the room was suddenly washed in a bright flash of light.

The Guru pivoted several times on the spot and came to one conclusion, he was surrounded. Each and every inch of the wall was lined with guards. Raleigh's best, tuxedoed and armed to the teeth. Trained and professional killers all.

"Well?" One of them said.

"'W-W-Well?' what?" Frank frightendly stuttered .

"Where's Gerald and Mike?"

"W-What?"

"Geez," Another guard started in an annoyed tone, "Okay, who forgot to tell Frank?"

"…Tell him, I mean, me what?"

"It's their birthday. Why do you think Raleigh called us all down here? I mean, sure the guy's a tough as nails slave driver, but he's never forgotten an employee's birthday."

"…Really?"

"Yeah," another guard jumped in, "it's not like anyone going to try to break in here and steal the vault schematics."

"Besides," the original guard said, "the steam plate would crush the poor sap dumb enough to open the desk anyway. Listen we wasted too much time waiting for those clowns to show up, we gotta return to our posts. C'mon guys."

A collective "Aww" was heard as the guards trudged up the stairs. The Guru himself was halfway up the stairs when Bentley crackled in, "Uh, are forgetting something?"

"Hmm?"

"The plans?"

"Oh yeah."

The Guru turned around and started towards the desk when another guard called from the top of the stairs.

"Yo, Frank what're doing?"

"…They forgot the cake down here, quick question though."

"Shoot."

"What if someone were to say…oh…I dunno…open the desk to get the vault schematics, how'd they go about that without…say… being crushed viciously in a horrible, horrible death trap?"

"*Snort* That's easy, you flip the little switch just above the desk, why'd you ask?"

"Oh, I forgot."

"You know Frank, for being so smart, sometimes you're real stupid."

"Yes, I'm very, very stupid.

"Alright man see ya."

"Wow, that was easy," Frank said as he turned 'round

"I don't think Raleigh hires 'em due to intellect," Bentley quipped.

The Guru flipped the switch above the desk, popped it open and retrieved the vault schematics.

"Fantastic!" Bentley cheered, "Okay Guru return to base."

"I don't know, Mr. Raleigh will be mad if I don't get back to my post."

"There'll be doughnuts."

"Well, what Raleigh doesn't know won't hurt him."

"And ditch the guard while you're at it."

* * *

**Some light measurements

* * *

  
**

That's it!, Alex thought, I've had enough of this. Alex was rooftop rabbit guard, and he was tired of this life. Sure in the beginning it was easy, heck it was even a little fun. Kill some people, terrorize others, get money, pretty simple work. But the wife had a little one on the way and how could he look his newborn kid in the eye as an honest man doing what he does? That's it! he thought, I'm goin' to the cops, I know who ain't corrupeted 'n' stuff. I'll squeal on da boss an' there ain't nuting or no one who can stop me.

**WHAM!**

Sly quietly rolled the guard he just knocked unconscious into the shadows and pocketed all the money man had in his wallet. Sly then got into the position the man was at and accessed his binoc-u-com.

"Okay Sly," Penelope said over the binoc-u-com's mike, "Are you in position."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Really?

"Yes."

"Because I hear not being in position for a job can severely lower your chi, not to mention I wouldn't want you to do something you weren't ready for."

"PENELOPE!"

"Okay, geez, antsy much?"

"Whatever, what do I need to do?"

Sly heard the clicking of keys and then his goggles auto zoomed and aimed to the roof of the restaurant. There was a bunch of searchlights on it. You know, the sort of search lights rich people put up during a party to tell people who can see the beams from afar, "We're having such an outlandishly expensive party, that we felt it important to put up these lights, reminding you that you weren't invited."

"Okay Sly," Penelope said, you need to get close enough to one of those lights and take a picture of it so Bentley can use it to measure the width and height of the lights."

"Okay, seriously, what's Bentley's master plan? First he has us steal some forks, now he's got me snapping photos of search lights, next we're snatching up an oven. What's next, our mission's to brush our teeth?"

"I have no idea, all my honey told me was that it's crucial to the plan."

"*giggle* 'My honey'?"

"Oh darn! I Bentley told me not to call him that in front of you-"

"Because I'd tell Murray and Dimitri, and we'd all make fun of him?"

"Whatever, just be carful the rabbit guards are really on their toes since the gym fight."

"Trust me, you and _honey_ have nothing to worry about."

"Forget it, just get to work."

"Now who's being antsy again?"

Sly, went into work mode. He looked across the landscape much like a surgeon looks over his tools before an operation. Okay, he thought, I just need to get to the next building. Sly learned quickly in the thief game, it was best to look at everything not as just one big job, but several small ones, ranging from staying perfectly still for over an hour to simply opening a window. Fitting all the jobs into a puzzle.

There! Two lamps over hanging across the street towards one another and a drainpipe. Sly jumped on the lamps, bouncing from one to the other, on to and up the drainpipe. Sly skulked across the roof and crouched behind a large chimney, he heard a guard approaching. He rapped his cane against the brick surface of the chimney. Hearing the guard running to investigate the noise, so he circled around the chimney to get behind the guard.

**CRACK!**

The guard was out, Sly turned towards the next building, there was no way to get it from the side he was on, he'd have to go street side. He leapt down and started towards the corner until he saw a flashlight beam start to creep around the corner. Sly slid under a nearby parked car. He waited until the guard passed to continue on his journey, but not before reliving the buck of his awfully shiny pocket watch.

Creeping around the corner, Sly saw a way to get to the roof again; trash can and two cloth window awnings. Sly ran over to and got on top of the trash can. Standing on tiptoe, he reached the hook of his can onto one of the awnings. He then pulled himself up and onto it. Feeling good about the sturdiness of it, he jumped on it and bounced onto the other awning. Continued doing this, bouncing higher and higher each time, until he reached for the edge of the roof and pulled himself up.

The next couple of building were positively riddled with guards, there was no way he could set foot on them without getting caught. There! Smoke was coming out of the chimneys on the next few buildings. Now all he needed, AH! There were two more awnings, one sticking out from the building he was on, the other on the next building, perfect.

He jumped onto his awning and bounced onto and up from the second. Once above the first chimney, he pulled out his paraglider. The cloth caught the hot air from the chimney and carried Sly upwards. Once he'd gained enough altitude, leaned and moved forward, hot air from the subsequent chimneys keeping him aloft. He'd flown over the guards heads and they didn't suspect a thing. Landing on the roof of a restaurant across from Raleigh's.

Things were especially bright and well light here, there was no way he could go street side without being caught. There! The outdoor tables of both this restaurant and Raleigh's had their umbrellas open. Sly leapt onto the umbrellas bouncing from one to the next until he'd reached the roof of his destination.

When it came to spending cash, Sly could tell that Raleigh wasn't the kind of guy who'd be skimpy about it. Even the roof of the restaurant was swanky. The tiles of the roof had copies of great artworks on them and were so clean that they seem to sparkle even in the dark London evening. And there was a great glass dome in the roof center. Sly tentatively walked towards the dome and peeked in on the party, it was still as unsettling to see as it had been on Bentley's computer screen. But it if his stomach was in a state of unease before, it certainly went into overdrive when he saw _her_.

Mz. Ruby was in attendance as well. Currently she was doing a tarot card reading for a prairie dog Sly once ripped off in Texas. She looked up from her swindling and stared at Sly through the glass dead on. He nearly had a heart attack. But instead of calling the guards and party goers on him, she merely flashed a positively wicked smile at him and returned to her work.

Sly had never been as unsettled as he was when he faced Mz. Ruby and her followers in the haunted Haitian swamps. Compared to his other supernatural adversary's, the Contessa and the Mask of Dark Earth, neither struck as much fear in him as when he waded through lady crocodile's cursed bog. When he fought her, it didn't feel like she was fighting so much as she was simply going through the motions and knew what her fate was.

To have her smile like that at him sent droves of goose bumps up his spine. She'd only do that if he heading was towards something particularly nasty. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that, he'd idled long enough and needed to get to work, but it would still take a while to shake off that smile.

Sly walked towards the first searchlight at the edge of the building, there were two guards standing by it with their backs to him, big mistake. Sly ran towards the two, jumped, and planting his feet on one of the guard's back, he pushed the poor sap off the roof and into one of the dumpsters of the restaurant. But that wasn't all. While still in midair, Sly twisted and spun, using his cane to pop the second guard in the face and knocking the back of the guy's head into the searchlight. Those two were out of the game. Sly then faced the searchlight and snapped a photo of the search light.

"Penelope?" Sly said, contacting the muse girl, "I took the picture."

"Excellent!" She replied on the other end, "Yeah I've got it here on the computer. Return to base."

"And Penelope?"

"Yeah?"

"Well one of the guests…."

"Yeah?"

"…Nothing, just tell _honey_ that I got his stupid picture."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

**Cooking with Elric

* * *

  
**

Penelope sneezed as she set down her RC car. She tried not to gag from the stench of the sewer she was in.

"You know Bentley," she said into her binoc-u-com irritably, "I may love you and everything, but there are times that test that love. This is one of them."

"I'm sorry," Bentley crackled back, "but there's no other way to do this. The stove here at base is far too small for what I've got in mind and the pavement would block the signal if you were trying to control it above ground."

"Yeah, just remember you're getting me a new set of clothes."

"Actually I think you look good without those clothes."

"Why thank….shut up."

"*snicker*"

"Just run what I'm supposed to do by me again."

"Well, since none of us are small enough to fit in the drainage pipes below the restaurant, you're going to use your RC car to scare the rats in the pipes up the main drainage pipe for the restaurant's kitchen. The only opening they can fit through is the main opening in the floor of the kitchen so that they can quickly dispose of any spilt soup or water quick enough to deal with the coming wave of orders. The rats will then scare off the cooks and-"

"Okay, why would the cooks freak about the rats? Wouldn't they just pop 'em on the head and dispose of the bodies before the health inspector arrives?"

"Not tonight. Raleigh went all out and hired Elric LeTrunk and his crew for the evening festivities."

"Elric? Isn't he that elephant TV chef?"

"Yes and his crew are all elephants too."

"I get ya."

"Panda King's already used the sound proofing gel I gave him and is blocking the way 'tween the kitchen and restaurant, so the chefs can't burst out of the kitchen screaming bloody murder. Murray's already on standby at the back of the restaurant to get the stove. All we're waiting on is you."

"Right Bentley, I'll get right to it."

"Oh, and Penelope?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you tell Sly that you call me honey?"

"Uh, you're bre *krsh* ing up I ca *krsh* ear yo *krsh* gotta go."

"You DID tell him, didn't-"

Penelope switched of her binoc-u-com's sound off and set to work. She turned to her remote, staring at the small screen on it, seeing through the car's camera. She gat the car to drive forward and into a tunnel. It hummed along until the tunnel, intertwining with other, and choosing the appropriate forks in the road, until it all ended in an opening. It was pitch black so Penelope pressed a button to activate the car's lights. What she saw amazed. The underground formed into a small cave with a large hole at the top. But that wasn't what had her stare at the screen in awe. What caused her to stare and pause for thought was the fact that the walls and floor were positively covered with big, hairy, nasty, and god awful ugly rats. Yes indeed, this job was making Penelope feel less and less feminine and clean by the minute.

The rats for their part were, impassive to the car's existence, they looked at it when it flashed it's lights, but other than that, no reaction. "Okay," Penelope said to herself, "this is what you came here for. Just get this job done and you can go take fantastically long shower." Penelope pressed a button and the car emitted a loud, shrill and long beep. To this the rats did give a genuine reaction. Most of them gave the car angry and annoyed sounding squeaks, and Penelope could've sworn she saw one or two bend their paws into the shape of a middle finger. After that, the rats returned to their various activities, things which I can't necessarily describe without having to raise this story's level to mature.

"Okay," Penelope said to herself, "If that's how you want to play it." Penelope pulled the trigger on her remote and fired off a few warning shots. The rats didn't take kindly to that, not at all. They all turned to her car and all seemed to have the same look on their face saying, "Hey buddy, there's more of us than there are of you, and now you've pissed us off."

But before the rodent themed thug stomping of Penelope's RC car could commence, a clicking sound was heard from the other end of the faux cave. It was at this point that the air of the cramped space changed from one of malice to absolute fear and panic. The rats flooded past Penelope's car into her only exit and many more poured upwards into the restaurant.

In seconds that cave was empty and Penelope could see that aside from her car and a rat just waking up from all the commotion. The clicking sound still persisted and Penelope saw that there was another entrance aside from the one she used, except this one was a lot bigger. The rat drifted in front of the other entrance, it's ears perking up as it finally registered the clicking sound, but it was too late. The clicking stopped and something white shot out of the darkness, grabbed the rat and pulled the shrieking rat into the shadows.

The rat's cries was all Penelope could hear for a few seconds, then they abruptly stopped and the clicking continued. Out of the darkness came , the biggest spider Penelope ever saw in her entire life. It was huge, black and hairy, with six heartless, green eyes. She could make out the rat's tail as it disappeared 'tween the spider's massive pincers.

Penelope had finally woken up from her daze and decided it best to get her car out of there. But unfortunately the spider was faster. It spat out a huge, nasty ball of webbing towards her car. She barely had time to move it out of harm's way as she heard a very nasty splat sound. She turned the car's camera to see her only exit has just been sealed off. That's when Penelope got the idea of the game. The spider was bigger than the car, and it ate things it was bigger than.

Now most sensible people would've just thrown their hands in the air and say, "Forget it, it's just a toy car." And Penelope would have been there right along with them, if it weren't for the fact that she's had that car since she was twelve years old. True, almost every part in it since then has been either replaced or modified since then, but it was still _ her_ car. And the last thing she was going to let happen to it was let it become some bug's indigestion.

"RAAAAATS!!!!" came a resounding yell from the kitchen above. For Penelope and the spider, it acted as a sumo gong, it was punching time.

The spider spat out several more web balls, trying to trap the car, but Penelope built the car much better than that. She drove around the spider, moving faster than it could aim. She abruptly stopped just in time, because the next shot the spider aimed in front of her and it would've hit. She then reversed and turned, leaving the spider dead in her sights."

**BUDDA-BUDDA-BUDDA-BUDDA!!!**

Pulling the remote's trigger, Penelope pumped round after round into the disgusting arachnid, firing until the guns were red and overheated. "Oh come on," she whispered under her breath as she heard a very angry clicking. She stared in disbelief as the smoke cleared and saw that the spider was still standing, hurt but standing, and **very** distraught.

It spat out a long, shiny, and extremely thick strand of web that stuck to the car. Penelope went into reverse, but it was obvious that she was losing and the spider still pulled her in. She was frozen in dismay until she noticed that the gun barrels were still glowing. Switching directions, Penelope went forward and hit the boost button. The spider leapt straight up as the red hot muzzles pressed into it's exoskeleton. It landed directly on top of the car. Penelope went into full reverse at top speed, suddenly stopping about halfway through the cave, knocking the spider off the car, into the wall, and snapping the web line in the process.

The spider was a lot faster than Penelope suspected, because it got up and was pushing the car's side, trying to flip it, and desperately trying to sink it's venomous fangs into the car's hard, metal frame. Penelope pressed a button and activated one of the car's bumpers. To say the least the spider was surprised when a metal panel shot out from the side, knocking it on it's back.

The spider flipped upright and skittered up the wall. It saw that Penelope was blasting away at the webbing blocking her path. Well the spider would have nothing of the sort. It caught the car in another web line and started pulling her in.

Penelope was nearly through the wall of web when she noticed that she'd begun to move back and upwards. Swiveling her camera she who the culprit was. "Geez," she said in genuine surprise, "doesn't this guy ever quit?" She started hitting the horn and trying to move the tires so the spider wouldn't suspect any trickery. If it could, the spider would've started laughing. It was extremely pleased with itself. But, once the car was close to it's mandibles, everything exploded into a world of bright light and burning pain as the car's watered down jet fuel ignited right in the arachnid's six eyed face.

That was the last straw, spider dropped the car and skulked off from whence it came.

"Finally," Penelope sighed several minutes later as her baby exited the tunnel. She felt a deep sense of pride in her car. Web covered and dirty though it may be, it still sat here before her victorious. "Bentley," Penelope said, reactivating the binoc-u-com's com. system.

"Penelope?" Bentley said, "Where are you? It's time for the big job."

"I had a few bugs to work out, I'll be there in a second honey."

* * *

And that's chapter four folks! I was hoping to have this done before Christmas as a gift to you kids. But hey better late than never. And I feel the time difference between this chapter and the last one was a bit better, though it won't stop me from trying to get things finished sooner.

And now, let's say "Hi" to the folks at home.

**Green Phantom Queen: **Why thank you, I always get a kick out of reading your reviews and if you got any stories yourself, I'd be thrilled to read 'em.

**linda: **well lindy, the story is more primarily an adventure than a romance, but I think you'll be pleased just the same.

**Dragonboy:** Well, while I am flattered and appreciate the contribution, I must decline the use of your characters. Don't take this the wrong way, but if you want the characters to be used, you should start writing. Because when I first found this site, I was doing the same thing you're doing. And don't worry, this story isn't just a rehashing of old villains, there'll be all the new characters you could want.

**dragondancer123: **Trust me, I wish that too. And with the giant Easter bunny came up when me and my friends were talking about stuff that instantly becomes scary when super buff, like meter maids and flowers. And trust me, I'll try not to let **THE MAN** get me down.

**Kamakazi knight:** Awesome sauce? It's funny, I picture something like spaghetti sauce, except when it's poured on the noodles it forms the face of Chuck Norris blowing stuff up with his mind. *giggle*

**PH Punked:** Well, it took me awhile to write this chapter, and I'm sure you had to wait, so what gonna do, huh punk! Nothing, that's what I ***STAB!*** Oh god.

**jake: **Ask and ye shall receive. Knock and ye shall be answered. Knock, knock, and ye shall find out who's there. (old vaudeville joke)

Okay kiddies, I gotta head on out, It's been great writing for you guys and I'll try to update soon, so please remind me to get off my natural black ass (yes I am black, amazing I know) and get this story finished, I'm a very lazy person and **I WILL **forget. Also, please review so I can feel good about myself, it's a pretty sweet feeling.


	6. OP:Distraction Extraction

Step riiiiiight up here, step right up and receive your prize: chapter the fifth, in which our heroes pull of their first big heist of the story and prelude to a big ol' brawl.

* * *

"Alright guys," Bentley said jubilantly to everyone in the kitchen, with the exception of Dimitri and Panda King of course, "we've all done exceedingly well so far, and it's been a long night for everyone." **CLICK** The projector showed the job's name in big, bold, yellow letters, "Now it's time for Operation: Distraction Extraction. This job will serve to complete one of two objectives." **CLICK **A picture of the computer vault, "First of which; stealing Raleigh's personal business computer. It is absolutely critical that we get this piece of equipment, we can't afford to let it's precious secrets slip through our hands. Secondly," **CLICK** A balcony view of the party and it's goings on, "we gotta do something about this party's guests. Trust me, we won't last long if our enemies are organizing together on a regular basis. Most of the local cops are bought out by Raleigh, so we'll have to get word to the most honest and incorruptible cop we know." Sly felt his heart sink down to his toes and bounce up to the pit of his stomach as Bentley continued the briefing, **CLICK** A picture of Carmelita, "Inspector Fox has tracked us to London, and she's our best bet at throwing the book at these guys, provided we don't get caught either. So here's the score." **CLICK** A group photo of the team. "To do this, we're gonna split up." **CLICK **The Fit Pit. "Murray, as the only member of Team A, you're going back to the Fit Pit, and you're gonna make a scene, it's time to let Raleigh now that the Cooper gang is here. Take on and take out as many guards as possible." **CLICK** The guards. "They're so twitchy right now because of our activities that they can't help but put down any form of enemy they can find, no matter who it is. Once things start to get heavy, escape via sewer and return to base." **CLICK** Raleigh's Mansion. "While Team A has the guards distracted, Teams B and C will make their move. Team B, consisting of Sly, The Guru and myself, will act on Raleigh's Mansion, getting the computer." **CLICK** The Restaurant. "Meanwhile Team C will act on contacting Inspector Fox. There are fireworks on the roof reserved for when the guest of honor makes his or her grand entrance, but I can think of a better use." **CLICK** Rooftop Guards. "Even with Team A's distraction, there will still be some guards on the roof of the Restaurant."** CLICK** Dimitri. "Dimitri, it'll your job to be, well, you and distract the guests and guards inside while Panda King takes out the guards on the roof and ignites the fireworks." **CLICK** Several large, round, blue and white see through plastic lids. The blue and white were mixed to make the Cooper Gang mask symbol. "After that Penelope, you'll be transporting these. Thanks to the stove, I was able to meltdown the plastic forks into lids large enough to go on the search lights." **CLICK** The dark, gray cloudy sky. "With tonight's cloud cover, the image will show up perfectly. Due to the fireworks half the city will be watching the skies anyway, so it'll be just a matter of time before you know who starts rocketing through this neighborhood, but we'll be **long** gone by then."

* * *

**Operation: Distraction Extraction

* * *

**

**London, 12:43am**

Murray was so happy right there and then that he was practically skipping down the street. The first big job and all he had to do was hurt a bunch of people and break stuff? Man! He had a real awesome feeling about the direction this adventure was heading.

He'd reached his destination. He grinned as his mind raced from one sinister idea to the other like a kid in a candy store with ADD. 'Should I stand out here an' shout stuff?' He thought gleefully, 'Or should I run in there like a maniac and throw the first guy I see out the window? It's a hard pick. Yelling was a sign to the world saying that I'm so awesome, brave, cool, and awesome that I don't even need to do some surprise attack garbage to smash faces. However, running in there and throwing someone out the window without even blinking would be classic Murray, and I do love throwing stuff, especially when that stuff that happens people I don't like.'

Then he saw it, and the internal conflict ended. As Murray's mind wandered, so did his eyes, until they landed on the blue Volkswagen beetle across the street from him and his building of foes. It was small, innocent, with a stainless paint job and white racing stripes. Perfect.

Murray ran across the street and like stomped the ground and stuff, which popped the car up off the ground. Grabbing it out of the air, he held it over his head, 'cause he was like freaky strong and could do that stuff, man. Then he turned towards the Fit Pit and totally chucked the car at it. It crashed through a second story window and blew up. The Street was filled with light from the second story bonfire, it was a most bodacious sight indeed, The Murray was pleased.

He then heard the predictable commotion caused by people rushing to the door to find out what went down. So he went all kung fu crazy and soccer kicked a nearby trash can just as the door had opened. The first dude through the door totally caught the can in his stomach and flew twelve feet back.

He was quickly replaced by others. They saw Murray and marked him as the culprit, and before they made another move towards him, he said his message. He said it loud and proud.

"THAT'S RIGHT RALEIGH GOON CHUMPS!!! I JUST BLEW UP A CAR IN YOUR PLACE AND THOUGHT NOTHING OF IT!!! FOR THE MURRAY KNOWS NO FEAR AND HAS NO NEED FOR THE ABILITY TO THINK!!! THE COOPER GANG HAS ARRIVED SUCKAS AND I'M THE MAIN COURSE IN A MEAL WITH TWO SIDE DISHES OF PAIN AND SUFFERING!!! DO YOUE HEAR WHAT I'M PLAYING PUNKS!!!"

It was at this point that the rabbits decided to call this one in. They simultaneously went for their walkie-talkies to call for assistance in dispatching the escaped mental patient.

* * *

Sly ran alongside Bentley towards their destination in silence. He'd allowed the Guru to get quite some distance ahead before asking, "Was there any other way?"

"Excuse me?" Bentley replied.

"Of all the people we're baiting into coming here, it has to be Carmelita?"

"Listen Sly, I know things aren't going well between you two."

"Really? She did seem to have a certain sparkle in her eye when she pointed her shock pistol at my face lately."

"I know things aren't going well," Bentley repeated a bit louder, ignoring the last statement, "but there honestly wasn't a choice this time. There was no way I could allow our enemies to gather like this at their leisure. I'm sure that the party guests are essential to the plans of whoever is behind all this. The locals watching the phones are all in Raleigh's back pocket and Carmelita would tap dance through rattlesnakes 'n' barbwire to get to you. And it's not exactly like she'd believe any email **I **sent her….I hope you're not mad about this."

"Now I see why you played the searchlight lids so close to your chest."

"I'm surprised you're taking it this well."

"Oh trust me, I'm gonna make sure that once this all blows over, it's you who gets to explain this whole mess to Carmelita personally." Sly turned and winked.

Bentley smirked wryly "Gee, thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it"

The two raced to meet the Guru at the mansion's gate.

"Yama shabaha," he said, gesturing towards the iron wrought gate's thick lock.

"Yeah, no kidding."

* * *

The Panda King made his way through the ballroom until he reached Dimitri at the bar still chatting away with Raleigh. The lizard's eyes locked with the King's, with a pure and clear message of "help me" written all over them.

"Most honorable Raleigh," Panda King said, addressing his host.

"What do you want?" Raleigh snapped, annoyed that anyone would dare cut into his face time with a celebrity.

"I wanted to thank you once more for inviting me to your humble gathering and to congratulate you on such an impeccable variety of food, it is not only pleasing to the taste but to the eye as well."

"Yes, yes, fine, fine, fine. Now what were you saying Dimitri?"

Dimitri opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by Panda King.

"Actually, I have a message for Mr. Lousteau as well. Dimitri, that lady friend of yours wants to see you, right now."

"Oh really Singh King?" Dimitri said, "Sorry toad bro, but le Dimitri must fly solo, like a wolf on rabies! Lest the ladies no go for Dimitri's mounds of muscle mojo."

"Oh but of course Dimitri," Raleigh said sycophantically, "anything you need."

The Panda King, Raleigh and Dimitri shuffled off their separate ways.

* * *

Murray was, well, surrounded, big surprise there. But he felt he was keeping up a good fight, especially ever since he ripped up a parking meter and started using it as a club. He ran forward and kicked one of his already felled assailants forward unto the surging crowd, tripping up several enemies. That's when he heard a click.

One of the stag guards had somehow shifted through the rabbits without being seen and got the drop on Murray. The guy now had a big, ugly revolver pointed at the hippo's noggin, ready to paint the cobblestone streets a nice, shiny shade of cherry pie. When suddenly, from out of nowhere, a glass disc crash lands on the gunman, bringing him down like a sack of bricks. Murray grinned as he head the tiny beat of propeller blades make their way away from him. He then turned and uppercutted the nearest rabbit to him off into the horizon.

* * *

Sly, Bentley, and The Guru raced across the neatly trimmed lawn of Raleigh's mansion, leaving the smoking and blasted remains of the mansion's gate behind them. They were temporarily impeded when a rabbit fell from the sky, saying "the hippo" in a traumatized voice, over and over. He didn't seem to notice the three, so they left him where he lay.

The three smashed in through the front door and instantly Sly was in thief heaven. Big, expensive looking, and seemingly deserted, it was every cut purse's fantasy and more. But he was here on a job, so he started up the grand stairs before them, but had to stop when he saw Bentley and The Guru cut directly to a hallway on the left.

"Guys, " Sly, whispered urgently, "what are you doing? The computer room's up and to the left."

"Hoya wudi wudo," The Guru started with a grin, "Huda wa shova mada. We he ma ha ha ha."

"Okay, now you've lost me."

"Don't worry Sly," Bentley said reassuringly, "It's all part of the plan."

* * *

Dimitri skulked through the crowd like a shark through a coral reef. He was looking for prey. He needed to create a distraction, one that would last long enough for Panda King and Penelope to complete their tasks. Sure, humping the very attractive ice sculpture on a nearby table whilst saying random phrases in drunkanese (a very hard language to master) would raise some attention. But after a minute or so, many would chalk it up to his eccentricity. No, to get the time he wanted out of these people, he needed a true, dead to rights scandal.

Then he found exactly what he was looking for. It was big, round, and inspired evil thoughts.

So, he whistled loud enough to silence the crowd around him, lifted his hand high and brought it down firmly on the toosh of the cute mountain lioness in front of him.

And if the whistle hadn't caught a lot of people's attention, the resounding slap sound, certainly did. Especially in the case of the mountain lioness's snow leopard boyfriend and his yakuza cronies.

* * *

The Panda King marched up the stairs deep in thought. He felt naked as he headed up towards the restaurant's roof, which is of course silly, for he had on his ceremonial pants and shirt. But walking into battle without his firework mortar strapped to his back, or several rockets to his front? He might as well have been.

He pushed all those unsure thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on his past, more specifically the unpleasant parts of his past.

He thought back to when the snobby and self important noblemen of his village turned him away for his shabby clothing. Too old. Then he thought upon the snide comments made by his female arresting officer when she found him on the floor of his dojo after his defeat at Sly Cooper's hands. Not good enough. Then remembered the tears that rolled down his Jing King's face as the Interpol van carried him away from her. Good, very good, but still not recent enough. The he thought about when his daughter was carried away from him by that disreputable monster, General Tsao. Almost, but not quite.

It was hard to generate the anger he needed for his next task. Since he'd started traveling with Sly, he'd learned to let the past go and not to become so riled up by what happened a long time ago.

Then he thought of how shocked he felt when Penelope called him, telling him that Bentley had been attacked. And he thought of how scared he felt when he realized that at any minute, of any day, the same people from Paris could knock upon his beloved Jing King's door. That was it.

* * *

Sly, Bentley and Guru raced down the hall and abruptly stopped when the hall turned to the right. Bentley peeked around the corner and turned to the other two, "There are two guards in front of the door. I can take out one quick enough, but the other will just squeal to the other guards in the house. Sly can you do something about it?"

Sly looked around the hall, there was a table with an ornament al vase on it, several paintings nailed sturdily to the walls and the ceilings were high with thick, wooden rafters. "Give me two minutes and then make your move."

Two minutes later, the guards heard a crash like one of the vases had fallen off one of the tables.

"Well," one of them said, "go check it out."

"Really?" said the other, "'Go check it out.' That's all you have to say?"

"Well yeah, that was kind of a strange noise….What else do you want me to say?"

"Well we've been here all night and the first thing you summon up the strength to say is 'Go check it out.' Not 'Hey there buddy' or 'How's it going Kyle'. No, apparently all I'm good for is to be ordered about to check out strange noises."

"Wait, your name's Kyle?"

"Yes, yes it is. We've been working together for over two years, how can you not know my name?"

"Well to be honest we all kinda look the same, there's a really generic guard look about everyone who works here. It's actually a bit creepy. I don't see how you guys can even come close to telling each other apart."

"It's a little thing called 'effort' maybe you should try it. You see, there are **some** people who show consideration for their coworkers."

"Okay, I think we got off on the wrong foot here Keith-"

"**Kyle.**"

"Right, Kyle, I'm sorry. Listen, would you **please** go check out the noise."

"Thank you, and yes I would." (A/N: Gee, ain't manners great kids?)

Kyle walked over to and looked around the corner. After that-

**THUMP**

"Oh s#!%, Kyle!" was the other guard's response for when he saw Kyle fall flat on his back with a dart sticking out of his forehead. But before he could do anything for his felled comrade, Sly fell from the ceiling and cracked the guard over the head with his cane.

The three thieves took their knocked out foes and dumped them in the bushes outside a nearby window. They then turned towards the formerly guarded door and entered. What they found was by far the fanciest kitchen any of them had ever seen.

"Okay Sly, crack open the gas main behind the stove. I'll plant the bomb. Guru, do your worst." And with that, they all set to their devious tasks. It was a cakewalk for Sly to reach behind the formidable stove with his cane and give it a good whap. And it was child's play for Bentley to plant one of his remote detonateds inside one of the cabinets. Leaving The Guru to make his way towards the kitchen broom closet.

The small, purple aboriginal mystic opened the closet to find bound and gagged Frank exactly where he left him. The tied up guard tried to squirm away as The Guru reached out his bony hand towards Frank's temple. After removing the gag and picking up the guard's walkie-talkie, The Guru forced Frank to say, "Hey guys, listen. The Party's back on, but we're all meeting in the kitchen this time. We're supposed to all crowd around the windows, I think the boss got us something special."

"What, seriously?" came a voice through the walkie-talkie, "Okay, I'll be there." Following this, came a long stream of reply's, all saying yes. Seriously, who could **ever** resist free cake?

The Guru replaced the gag and turned to Sly and Bentley.

"Okay," Sly said in awe and slightly spooked, "I'm never going to say anything bad about you, **ever**."

The Guru seemed to nod to this comment approvingly.

"Alright," Bentley piped in, "We don't have long, let's head to the computer room."

* * *

To say that Dimitri was in a pickle was a more than kosher statement. (A/N: Seriously, pickle jokes? I gotta raise my standards.)

"Hey bro, it was just a complement," Dimitri said sweating bullets, "All Dimitri said was, 'HEY!...that's a really, really nice butt. Keep up the good work'. So we're cool right?"

Then the leopard started talking really fast and angrily, but since it was in Japanese there was no way to determine what was said. But, since he pointed from Dimitri to his also leopard flunkies, the flunkies for their part started to smile and crack their knuckles, it was universally assumed that everything was, most decidedly, not cool.

But surprisingly, the prince smiled, and said something. One of his underlings saw the confusion on Dimitri's face and kindly translated.

"Fat, old, dried up and bad artist."

The next few sentences Dimitri said in retaliation are rather naughty, so I won't be the one to type 'em. But rest assured, the speech was long, colorful, **very** descriptive and featured the words "your mother" several times. To make it easy on yourself, just think of the most mean, evil and vile thing you could possibly say to anyone, and just ad lib it for Dimitri's words.

Well, to be perfectly honest, when everything was translated to him, the prince really wasn't too keen on the idea of letting bygones be bygones. However, after a statement like **that**, well he'd look like a punk if he let his boys break his kneecaps in the ally out back. No, this required a more personal touch.

Calling his boys off, the prince demanded a fair fight, unfortunately he didn't know Dimitri well enough to know that Dimitri never fought fair.

So Dimitri summoned up his courage, got into fighting position, and hocked a lugi right in the other guys face. Following this low-grade biological warfare, Dimitri kicked right for the guy's crotch, missed, and sent a resounding kick into his shin.

Quickly tired and **very** distraught by this turn of events, the prince reached into his pocket pulled out a knife. Thus leaving Dimitri with two choices, try to grab the knife out of the man's hand, fail, and end up stabbed, or, throw his hands into the air, scream like a little girl and run through the crowd to avoid any form of physical pain.

Do I really need to tell you which one he picked?

* * *

The Panda King stood on the stairs for a moment and stewed. He let his anger flow through his body like a torrent, letting it wash over him. This was it, this was everything he needed and more. Standing in an enraged reverie, he finally set about the work of quieting his mind.

Channeling the flow of energy in his body, he centered his chi, and all his rage and frustration as well, into his hands, turning that energy into heat. Soon his hands were extremely hot. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bag of powder and carefully covered his hands with it, making sure not to make and sudden movements.

The Panda King personally developed this powder, he was well aware of it's capabilities. At room temperature, the powder did nothing aside from giving the run of the mill asthmatic some breathing problems. But, when met with enough heat to melt wax and when jarred by an opposing force, the powder ignited for a brief stint in an explosion of heat and color, this was the secret to Flame-Fu.

He finished his preparations by slowly reaching into his pocket and activating the radio scrambler Bentley gave him. Then he heard a whistle from the ball room behind him and then a slap. He had assumed that Dimitri's diversion had begun. Making no necessary or sudden actions, he moved with a dancer's grace up the stairs and began to deprive himself of all emotion. He was about to do some very ugly things, things which he didn't have time to regret.

The few guards on the roof didn't notice when the Panda King joined them on the roof. All eight rabbits were too busy gazing at the ballroom through the glass, giddy at the thought of seeing a possible fight. It wasn't until the door clicked as the Panda King locked it did one of them look up and it wasn't until several days afterward did they realize the cruel irony of their recent thoughts.

The Panda King walked automatonously towards the unsuspecting guards. Their ringleader motioned for his boys to look lively, walked towards the frightening mountain of black and white muscle and was stupid enough to place his hand upon it's chest.

"Sorry sir, but the rooftop is closed to all guests."

This was absolutely unacceptable, and the Panda King politely explained it as such.

**BOOM!**

The Panda King thrust the palm of his massive hand into the stomach of the guard. Normally, the blow would have easily left the guard gasping for air, but when the Panda King's hand touched the guard, the powder ignited. The guard was launched twelve feet backwards by and explosion of pink and blue sparks.

The rabbits realized what was happening, and a couple reached for their walkie-talkies. However, they cringed in pain from the shrill noise emitted by the machines. Something kept any signal from being sent in or out. Whatever it was would have to wait however, the roof tops around were too far away to jump to, and the bear was still walking towards them.

In a fit of either courage or stupidity, one rushed forward brazenly, and delivered three swift jabs to the Panda King gut. They were good, sharp blows that'd leave Sly staggering. But the Panda King was no Sly Cooper. The punches were about as effective as throwing pillows at a brick wall to tear it down.

The King lifted his right hand high and karate chopped down in single, fluid motion. However, the rabbit saw this coming and rolled to the side to avoid it. At this point, the guard was feeling fantastic about himself, that is until…

**BOOM!**

The back of the Panda King's left hand made acquaintances with the back of the guard's head.

With example number two, on the ground, seeing stars, and clutching the back of his head, the rest thought it was best proceed, with caution.

One of the rabbits just so happened to be ahead of the curve. While the Panda King was dealing with the second guy, this particular rabbit dove for the baseball bat he'd brought up here with him for just such an incident. He circled around the bear's back and quietly rushed towards him with bat raised high.

**BOOM!**

However, just not as quietly as he thought.

In a blur of black and white, the Panda King turned to face his assailant. The rabbit didn't even see what happened, all he knew that after a flash of green, gold, and purple, he was holding just the handle of a bat. The business end had looked to have been sliced clean off by a blade of some sort, but the cut had burn marks on it.

Whatever happened, he'd have to figure out in the hospital. The Panda Kings reached out his trash can lid size hand and enveloped the rabbit's head in it. Raising the rabbit off the ground, The Panda King held the rabbit high. Using his other hand, he flicked the back of the former.

A muffled explosion has heard and The Panda King dropped the guard. A large part of the rabbit's fur turned from gray to black in the shape of a large black hand, and was left to smolder.

It became painfully obvious mono a' mono was not the way to go, so the guards decided to rush the bear all at once. They circled the bear and felt somewhat secure now that they had their enemy surrounded. Unfortunately, they had no idea who they were up against.

As they rushed forward, the king pulled off one of the signature moves of Flame-Fu. Rolling downward onto his shoulder, The Panda King turned the momentum to the side and spun with his hand extended outward, hitting each guard about the legs in a multicolored flurry of explosions. This was The Fiery Wheel.

After his enemies were left moaning on the ground, The Panda King set about igniting the fireworks. He had to stop however, when he heard an all too familiar click. He rushed to the door to stop one of his felled enemies from shouting down to the party and it's guests. The king grabbed the guard's legs, pulled him back and smiled sickeningly as he delivered yet another signature move, The Palms of Thunder.

* * *

Sly, Bentley, and The Guru were in Raleigh's study, staring at the computer vault, the room being slightly more illuminated by the fireworks outside the window. Sly had been staring at the vault door for thirty seconds, and one thing he knew from past experiences, was that if he didn't get the ball rolling in his train of thought within twenty, he needed help. But that's why Bentley and The Guru were there.

"Okay," Sly said to Bentley, "What's the score?"

"There are two glass doors," Bentley started, "The one we're standing at and the one at the end of this hall. Each is made of two foot thick, shatterproof glass. I can't blast my way through, and the vault's security operations are on a closed circuit, so I can't hack the doors open. However, there is usually at least one guard on duty inside of it at all times, but he's been removed to preside over tonight's festivities."

"So I climb in through the air vent?"

"There isn't one. But look." Bentley was pointing at a crack under the door, but…

"I can't fit through that," Sly said bluntly.

"You don't need to."

"Ah, I get it, your grapple-cam."

"Nope, right after the door, there's a thin, invisible electromagnetic screen. If I try to use any electronic equipment, through that screen, it'll malfunction and break down. Quite frankly, if we tried to tackle this vault in the old days, we'd fail." Then Bentley stared pointedly at The Guru, "But the gang's gotten a bit bigger since then hasn't it?" Bentley wheeled over to the wooden desk behind them and picked up a piece of paper.

Following suit, The Guru transformed into, a copy of the paper.

"Okay," Sly said, "**Now** I see where this is going." Unfortunately , whenever the Guru transforms, it doesn't change his weight, and he hadn't been exactly dieting since his stay in New York. So with a bit of effort, and the added reach of his cane, Sly was able to push The Guru under the door.

Once he was through, The Guru transformed into his old self and pressed a button on his side of the door. After which, the door slid up and opened. They were in.

* * *

"Arrgh! No wait…ARRGH!!!" Dimitri cried. Now normally Dimitri was a big fan of knives. They buttered his toast, cut his steak, and most custom made ones looked fantastically cool to him. These facts are a secret to no one. Buuuut! Dimitri, and I think most people do, tended to have a temporary change of heart when knives were used against him.

For those of you who are confused to our lounge lizard's current situation; rest assured that the knife in this part of our story was not used to butter any form of toast.

Dimitri was in hot water in the restaurant's kitchen (no, he was not in a soup). The prince unrelentingly chased Dimitri throughout the ball room. Raleigh saw Dimitri's plight, but after seeing which guest in particular was trying to skewer his new iguana friend…well, he felt it best to let the situation settle itself.

Eventually, the chase led to the kitchen, with Dimitri being cut on the arm, and slowly herded out the restaurant's back door.

Once outside, with the yakuza's deadly blade edging ever closer, Dimitri enacted the plan he hatched when he decided to never return to Sunday School in the 5th grade. Pray like crazy on his deathbed. And, true, he wasn't technically dying yet, nor on a bed waiting to do so, he felt now was the best time.

He prayed, he prayed **hard** and **fast**. He also promised many, many things. He promised to stop smoking. He promised to stop ogling at women. But most of all, he promised that if God were to act in some way that would spare his wicked life, then Dimitri Lousteau, formerly of the Klaww gang, currently of The Cooper Gang, and lounge lizard extraordinaire, would give up his wretched and hateful life of crime.

**CRASH!**

It was at that moment that a hard, plastic, nearly glass like disc fell from the sky and landed on the Japanese mafia prince's head, knocking him unconscious.

Realizing that he was safe from death's murky shadow, Dimitri was filled with a new lust for life! And he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He was going to smoke three packs, hit a strip club and rob a convenience store as soon as possible.

"HEY DIMITRI!" Penelope called down from the roof, as the Panda King screwed on the fourth and, due to the fifth and sixth being used to save Murray and Dimitri's skins, final search light lid. "HEAD BACK TO TH SAFEHOUSE, WE'RE DONE HERE!"

"Do you think the Inspector shall arrive shortly?" The Panda King asked, not looking up from his work. "We have only four lights bearing our symbol amongst the clouds."

"Are you kidding?" Penelope asked looking at the King like he had a screw loose, "This is Inspector Carmelita Fox we're talking about! She'd hunt someone to the ends of the earth just for spitting! I'm surprised we're not being shot at now."

"Hmm, I suppose you are right," The Panda King said, giving the lid one last turn.

"Y'know I hear that late at night, when it's really quiet, if you say her name three times at mirror; she appears."

At this statement, even the statuesque martial artist could not keep a straight face and laughed outright.

* * *

He'd done his job he felt. Not only that, but done it well. Murray was positively swamped with guards, and not just rabbits, he cleared out most of them before the fireworks started. Currently Murray was rushing down the road, dodging and outrunning bullets left and right.

So far, Murray had the situation under control. I mean, sure, there was one or two tight spots, what kind of a mission would this be if there wasn't? However, things seemed to have really run amok when the buck guards came to the scene.

They were particularly rude too, considering they didn't even give Murray a chance to explain himself. True, they did find him in a rather compromising position, but hey! There could have been any number of reasons as to why he was holding that rabbit off the ground by his neck. He could have been helping him off the ground, and getting the dirt off his face by punching it, sometimes it's real tough to get dirt off you know.

Anyways, to make a long story short; they assumed Murray was the mysterious assailant as advertised by their associate's cries for help over their walkie-talkies. They then proceeded to shoot at him, he ran, they chased after them, and that's where we are now.

To be honest, none of these guys were a particularly good shot, and Murray could've easily outrun the lot of 'em, he's been dodging cops all his adult life without breaking a sweat. But these guys…they got to him.

Let's face it, Murray's an upfront and personal kind of guy. He didn't harp on people who used guns if they weren't particularly strong, but if you were buffed out and still packed a heater, he'd make you feel like a world class chump. And trust me, the guys chasing him were well in his weight class, the problem was that no effective means of quick humiliation was available as he ran down the street. Until he unexpectedly cut down a street to the left.

The guards had no idea what to expect when they turned the corner, but easily the last thing they expected was to find Murray, facing them, with his hands in the air. They cautiously approached him, images of the burning beetle still fresh in their minds. They were feeling pretty confident. That is until he smiled.

The next turn of events happened so quickly that the guards had no conceivable way of reacting to it properly. Murray stomped the ground and popped a nearby manhole lid in the air, as well as knock the guards on their collective butts. He caught the lid in the air, and shouted to the highest mountain, "THIS ONE'S FROM CAPTAIN CANADA #44 SUCKAS!!!" He then threw the lid at the guards like a frisbee. The guards for their part ducked and dodged in various directions, only to have the heavy, metal disc completely wreak the flower shop behind them. They realized the danger passed, but when they turned back to swiss cheese Murray, he was gone.

* * *

Once Sly and Bentley walked in, Team B faced their next obstacle. Before them was the infamous hall, the obvious problem, being the moving laser grid in front of them. The holes that appeared were too small for Sly to squeeze through, and the Guru Paper trick wouldn't work on this. But that couldn't be all.

"Okay Bentley," Sly said, "what next?"

"Well aside from the lasers, we have…Oh excuse me." Bentley took out Frank's walkie-talkie and said into it, "Could you repeat that?"

"Yeah Frank," the voice on the other end said, "We're all here, so where's this surprise you were talking about?"

At this Bentley smiled and pulled out his detonation trigger. Flipping the switch, an explosion was heard from within the bowels of the mansion. After this, Bentley turned his attention back to Sly.

"As I was saying, aside from the lasers, the floor's tiles from this point on are weight tempered, watch." Bentley pulled out a pencil and threw it onto the floor. It stopped moving on one of the tiles, the tile then collapsed downward into a spike pit below. "You'll only have a few seconds on each tile before it collapses."

"Wait, it'll be hard enough to go through this thing without being diced up by the lasers, but with those spikes it's now impossible."

"Yeah, and just wonder how hard it would've been if those motion tracking guns were targeting you."

"Yeah…wait, what guns?" Sly heard several familiar sounds overhead. First was the beeping only heard before one of Bentley's bombs went off. The second being the all too familiar explosion that occurs afterwards. Sly turned to see two, recently I might add, dismantled gun turrets. "Okay, even without those, how am I going to pull this off?"

"There's a switch at the other of the hall. The guard who's usually here just has to pull it after he deactivates the lasers for Raleigh. The switch also activates a bridge for Raleigh to walk across, but it should serve our purposes just as well."

"Wow…a switch…really…just so long as it exists we're fine, apparently the fact that none of us can reach it to activate it doesn't matter."

"Okay, fine, Guru do your stuff."

It was at this point the small, aboriginal, outback mystic performed his greatest trick to date. Sly had only seen it performed in person once in his life, and the moments that followed that were some of his most frightening. Sly's memory flashed back to a cold mountain fortress in China, acting to retrieve a small laptop computer from a tyrannical general. He saw the Guru's moonstone glow bright and a thick violet smoke begin to swirl beneath the glassy surface of his eyes.

Then something amazing happened. Lasers simply stopped moving, but that wasn't all. Not only did the lasers stop, but they began to bend. They bent until there were so many holes that Sly couldn't count the ways through on his fingers.

"Now Sly," Bentley said, taking out and rereading the schematics, "all you have to do next is flip the switch."

"Like this?" Bentley looked over the edge of the blueprints to see the world famous thief had flitted across the death trap easily in the seven seconds Bentley had his eyes off him. Sly had thrown the switch and instantly lasers deactivated, two huge metal plates slid out from each side of the hall covering the treacherous tiles.

Then everything was done by the books, all of them working in an anxious silence, worried about the last trap to come. The Guru ran to Sly and transformed. After that, he was slid under the second glass door, The Guru pressed the button and the door opened. After that Bentley and Sly suffered some mistaken identity as a recorded voice said, "Welcome Mister Raleigh, what is the secret password?"

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Bentley's head. This was it. If he screwed this one up, the flamethrowers beneath the computer would ignite and melt the modem, casting the entire night's work to the four winds. Bentley didn't know what the password was, it wasn't on the schematics and Dimitri couldn't get it without giving up his cover. The chips were down, and Bentley put all his cards on the table. Betting everything on Raleigh's narcissistic nature, the green genius used his surprisingly splendid Raleigh impersonation and said "Long live Emperor Raleigh."

Many seconds went by in silence, no one dared to breath, then finally the computer said, "Praise be to Caesar. The computer is all yours, sir."

That was it, they cracked the vault, the computer was theirs. Moving like a blur, they unhooked the modem from all the wires in a snap. Bentley rigged the whole place with his brand of explosive surprises. They all couldn't help but laugh all the way to safehouse when they heard the room said in an all too cheery voice, "Have a fantastic day." Just seconds before it all went up in smoke.

* * *

They'd done it! Against impossible odds, through all danger, discomfort, and possibly the worst party ever, the Cooper Gang had triumphed. They'd gone from having nothing, to having all the answers they were looking for. Even packing up the equipment inside the safehouse was like a party."

"Hey Murray!" Sly said, rolling up some of wires for Bentley's surveillance equipment, "Remember when we first saw Rajan tonight?"

"Oh yeah!" the Hippo replied from across the room, carefully packing up the Panda King's explosives lab, "He was all 'Yes sir, Mister Raleigh sir'!"

"'It's 11:07 local time sir!'"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha! That was awesome!"

"Yo!" Dimitri piped up, bandaging his arm, "Any of you cats groovy for bumpin' over a convenient store ninja-wise?"

"Gee Dimitri," Penelope said, "Setting our standards a little low aren't ya?" She chuckled and returned to writing the 'thank you' letter to the family who lived there, congratulating them on the nice new stove the just got.

"Hmm…Two convenient stores?"

"I do not think that was what she was referring to," The Panda King said, shooing away Murray from his lab, keeping the hippo from blasting off an arm.

"Fine! Four stores, but we're bringing the large lobe shell for this one, I'm no workaholic like the rest of you cracker-boxes."

"Forgive my bluntness," The Panda King said, "But I must inquire as to Mr. Bentley's whereabouts."

"He's in the kitchen," Penelope said, not looking up from her work, "Hacking the computer, I swear he's like a kid on Christmas morning."

"Who is?" Sly asked wryly.

"Bentley."

"Really!?!" Murray exclaimed "I thought his name was 'Honey'!"

Once everyone stopped laughing, The Guru politely asked, "Iya midama hotto?"

"Sure thing pal," Sly said, still chuckling, "We just need to decide who buys the first ten boxes of doughnuts…NOT IT!"

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Mida!"

"Like, not it man!"

"I am not it!"

"Hey Bentley!" Sly called to the kitchen, "Get out your wallet, you're buying the doughnuts."

"Uh, Penelope?" Murray said staring at a piece of equipment.

"Yeah Murray?"

"I'm staring at this machine and a lot of the lights just became all blinky."

Penelope looked up from her letter to look at the piece of equipment; it looked like a cross between a computer from the 70's and a modern day stereo. It had several lights, and indeed several of them had become 'blinky'. "It's a machine that monitors all the audio Panda King and Dimitri have been planting all night. It looks for certain key phrases and large amounts of noise."

"Really?" Sly said, listening to the conversation, "Turn it up." Murray turned a knob and the machine's sound system filled the room with noise.

"Okay, calm down now everyone, calm down," Raleigh said, his voice coming through as though he was in the room with them, "Now, I'm sure as you all know from your invitations, that this is in fact a formal coming out party. And it is now high time for our guests of honor to introduce themselves to the world. I personally feel that it could not have been before a better audience. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the lovely persons responsible for you coming."

After this, much applause was heard. It ended when a new voice took the stage. "Thank you, thank you, and thank you. But we're not the guests of honor." It was a female voice, it sounded like it was being slightly adjusted by an electric voice box. "We just have to say that it has been far too long since we've been at a party. It's been so long, we nearly forgot how much fun these things could be. But, enough pleasantries." Sly couldn't put his finger on it but there was something…familiar in that voice. "We're sure that as you all mixed and mingled amid you're fellow guests, there is one simple fact that connects you all. The fact that keeps you here at so late an hour wondering that great and terrible question gnawing at all your minds. 'Why are we here?'" At this there was a great murmur of approval amid the throng of thieves and knaves.

At that moment Bentley burst into the room from the kitchen, looking like he'd just seen a ghost, in some ways he did. "Guys! We gotta leave! We gotta leave right now!"

"What is wrong?" Panda King said, rescanning the room for all entrances and exits, anywhere the enemy could strike from.

Sly took one look at Bentley and saw that this was no time for questions, that house just became a very dangerous place. "Okay guys. Everyone in the van NOW!"

"Sure Sly," Penelope said, "Just let me get—"

"LEAVE IT! DON'T TAKE ANYTHING, JUST LEAVE!!!"

Suddenly, the windows became filled with a bright green light.

"Oh my goodness," Bentley said in a voice barely above whisper.

"Panda King!" Sly shouted.

"Yes!" Panda King shouted, he much preferred the idea of dyeing in battle than simply standing like a pig lead to slaughter.

"Gear up! Everyone gear up!" While everyone else was distracted, Sly turned to Bentley, the turtle had been a field man for well over two years. Thugs, guns, bears and evil wolf spirits, he'd seen it all and none of it phased him. He didn't even bat an eyelash about more field work when he was crippled. But now, well now the man was a nervous wreck, his face was pale and the guy was practically drowning in his own sweat. Sly knew he didn't need yelling.

He knelled down to his old friend and softly said "Bentley, what is happening? What is going on?"

Those soft words were a small mercy in the turbulent world Bentley just got a glimpse of, the world he knew they were entering. Those words settled the turbulent sea his mind became. "…Get ready…for war."

"…Okay. EVERYONE LISTEN UP! GET TO THE CENTER OF THE ROOM AND STAY SHARP!"

The gang did as they were told, they got to the center, facing out ward from the circle they made. They fell silent, the only sound they heard was the house being torn apart, and the mysterious person at the ball, continuing her speech.

"Yes indeed, we know all about your sorted affairs. How all of you ran some fantastic racket, or were enacting some wondrous scheme, or simply minding your own business, when an individual whom you all have fantasized about killing ended that. An individual whom we all have just cause to want to kill, us more than the rest of you. We all know it wasn't the Interpol lapdog who jailed you. We, like the rest of you, know that she was just a tool. But enough of this talk as well."

The roof fell up and away, filling the room with more green light. The gang expected a whole army of ruthless thugs and mercenaries to pour through the hole. But on the contrary, no one came, but they went out. The Cooper Gang, and the entire floor of the room they were in was lifted upwards into the dark London night.

The speech continued.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we gathered you here today to make you all a marvelous proposition. An endeavor which undertaken; will make each and every person in this room obscenely more rich and powerful beyond their wildest dreams."

Sly stared in wide eyed wonder at what had become of him and his friends, long since ignoring the speech. But rather than let the fates have their way with him, Sly looked for anything, anything at all, anything that would explain their current predicament. In his search, he finally looked up and saw the source of the light.

It was small, scarcely larger than the Guru's moonstone. It looked like a child's UFO toy. It flew under it's own power and cast the green light upon him, the floor and his team.

Tapping the Panda King on his shoulder, Sly motioned towards the UFO. Seeing it, the Panda King loaded his firework mortar to the brim with rockets. Launching them, Panda smiled to see the deadly barrage soar upwards. When it looked like the multicolored missiles were about to hit their target, a blue ball of energy appeared around the saucer, destroying the rockets.

The speech continued.

"An endeavor ladies and gentlemen, which begins with you all clearing the center floor. Now as I said, we are not the guests of honor."

Sly walked towards the edge and peered downwards. Aside from a slight sense of vertigo, Sly felt his heart sink to his stomach. He recognized these streets, and what direction they were heading and what lay in that direction.

"No, the true guests of honor are a troupe fiends and greedy little monster whom we've each become acquainted with at some sad point in our lives"

Sly felt the floor stop moving, they reached their stop. "OKAY GUYS!" he called over the strong night winds, "BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

"Doctor, are they in position?"

"Yes," called a second, unknown voice.

"Splendid. Ladies and gentlemen, allow us, to reacquaint you to…"

The gang locked arms as the floor fell and crashed through the restaurant's roof, landing them smack dab in the middle of almost every person who tried to kill them in the past and swore vengeance on the name of…

"THE COOPER GANG!"

The speech ended.

* * *

And that is the end of chapter five. Okay boys and girls, here's your always expected shoutouts:

**Green Phantom Queen:** Hey there kiddo, it's great hearing from ya. With "hat day", I didn't expect that bit to run so long. Not to mention the Guru was a bit of a sort of flat character in the games, and I felt he deserved more of a personality. And with Bentley and Penelope, well you don't see too many Bent/lope pairings on this site, which is kinda sad in my opinion. I mean they are the first ligit couple to hook up on the game. And when I pictured it, I saw that it wasn't all wild and crazy like with Sly and Carmelita, but a lot more mild with tons of dialogue humor. If you do see a story with a decent Bentlope pairing; please tell me. And as for your story, like I said, please send it to me, I'd love to read your work.

**sotnosen93:** Seriously? Jessica? No way man! Aww yeah, you were like the first person to review this, way back when I only had the prologue posted. And like I said, with the missions, I wanted it to be like in the games. And by the way, it's great to have ya back.

**Winnow:** I know what you mean man. I got my report card today. All As and Bs except for an F in my Algebra class. I really hate the guy too. He sets his standards for excellence too high. He needs to quit being a jerk and give me a D already. It's not like I'm asking for a good grade, I just want something passable. You know what I mean?

**Piklink:** Nice to see another fresh face. In my opinion you couldn't have jumped on at a better time. Hope to hear more from you.

And now I gotta say bon voyage to all of you. Please read and review. Always remember to yell at me to get to work, I WILL FORGET!!! And stay tuned for chapter 6. Trust me, you don't want to miss it.


	7. OP:Distraction Extraction Part Deux

Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls of all ages! Would you kindly turn your attention towards the center ring for our next performance; Chapter the Sixth, in which our heroes see the evil eyes of the enemy, face the return of two of their greatest adversaries, and conclude the first act.

* * *

It was weird, truly weird. And silent. No one moved and had it not been for the slight sound of his breathing and the swirling dust, Sly would believe that time had completely stopped. But if only that were true….

If only that were true, then Sly wouldn't have to see the hungry looks of recognition turn to rage on the entirety of the guests' faces. If only that were true, he wouldn't be able to see Bentley stare intensively at the balcony above instead of the malice ridden crowd around them. And if only that were true, Sly wouldn't be able to look up at that same balcony and wonder, 'What now?'

But it wasn't true, and Sly got a real good look at the people up on the balcony.

There were five of them, all standing in a row, these were the only people in the room Sly had never seen before.

On the far right, stood a lion. He looked like he was old enough to be Sly's grandfather and was kind of dirty and really scrawny. He had long, gray hair that was braided and beaded, with a huge beard that followed suit. He also wore a purple headband infested with yellow peace signs, it sat above a pair of green round sunglasses. When it got to his torso, things seemed to take an opposite turn. He wore a white lab coat and button up white shirt. He even wore thick rubber lab gloves and a highly generic black necktie. But once it reached his lower body, he switched back to a hippie motif, wearing blue bellbottoms with smiley faces across the bottom. It was hard to describe his shoes seeing as he wore none, leaving his nasty, mud encrusted feet out for all the world to see.

Next to him stood a violet kangaroo. Her hair was crew cut with a very mild and natural shade of orange, and her choice in clothing was odd. Very athletic looking, she wore a white wife beater, with a huge black "#1" on it, and black sweat pants that tucked into black boxing boots. This is where it gets odd. She had spiked knee and elbow pads, along with fingerless gauntlets, made of dark gray stone. Clipped to her side was a voodoo doll of herself with rocks tied to her arms and legs. But most eerie of all were the bright red scars carved on her left cheek that formed the words "The World's Greatest".

On the far left was a red ant. He was short, very short, but built like a brick house. All four of his arms were so stacked that it looked like they could crush coal into diamonds. He wore a drill sergeant's hat with holes for his antennae. The rest of his clothes were regular army regulation type stuff. Dark green button up t-shirt with four sleeves, and several medals, badges, etc., pinned to his chest. Regulation, dark green, pants, tucked into two very shiny black combat boots. His face was hard to distinguish. His hat covered his eyes, but he had a small, stumpy, square nose above a huge, square jaw that seemed to consume his upper lip. His lower teeth were impeccably white and jutted up and out of his mouth. They were all the exact same height and rounded off to look like tombstones. Indeed the only off thing he allowed about himself was the huge, brown, and lit Cuban stogie jutting just a bit higher than his pearly whites.

And next to him was a raven. The guy had a long length of charcoal hair, and was dressed in a dirty, black magician's coat, whilst wearing a spotless midnight blue suit, with several small images of suns, moons, and shooting stars embroidered into the cloth. Indeed, aside from the coat, there was little else shabby about him, he wore an extremely fancy pair of white silk gloves, that perfectly complemented his pair of posh and polished spats. But there was one last thing. A hat, a dirty, ripped and stained buckled ringmaster's hat. The buckle itself however was made of the finest silver, polished magnificently, and was custom made into the shape of a skull. The skull's eyes were beset with two large blue Burmese sapphires, and the more Sly stared at the stones, the more it felt like they were staring back.

Then Sly cast his gaze towards the center figure, the one he assumed was talking before. She was an odd sight. She was a cat, with violet fur, dark purple stripes and long flowing black hair. She wore a red dress that was vaguely familiar to Sly, but that's where not only all of her clothing stopped, but her normal facets as well. She had two large metallic wings jutting out of her back. Her legs seemed slightly misshapen and several lights were blinking on and off beneath her skin. Her arms were normal from shoulder to elbow, but after that they became a horrific mash of tubes, wires, muscle, metal and skin, ending in two large, sharp, hooked iron talons. But her eyes, where two perfectly normal eyes should have been, there were now two sheets of yellow glass in front of all sorts gears and lights, with several more wires running from the socket's corners to her temples. Looking at her body, the wings, and her glowing eyes, it was hard to tell if she looked like an angel or a monster.

"**COOPER!!!**" The yell shook Sly from his inspection of the five on the balcony, for a moment he forgot exactly which group of people was surrounding him. And in all that time, Octavio just couldn't take it.

Slyabsolutely **ruined** his business, for no reason whatsoever. He had **no** priceless work of art, **no** golden mantle pieces, yet still, that hippo, that turtle, and that infuriating raccoon still came to **his** city, beat up **his** men, ruined **his** reputation, sent him to jail and resulted in giving him **the absolutely worst year in his entire life!** They were dead.

Octavio shifted through the crowd until he was at the forefront, then using the raccoon's name as a war cry, he pounced towards Sly. He was going to tear him to shreds. But then something happened.

_**PTEEEW!**_

Suddenly, the cat's eyes glowed extremely bright and two lasers shot out from them. The beams struck Octavio just inches before his claws made contact with Sly. Sly had to watch as the mobster's face turned from furious rage, to shock, to fear and pity as he realized, too late, what was happening. In a flash of red light, all that was left of the great Octavio, master of the Venetian Opera Houses and Alleyways, was a pile of smoke, ash, scorched bones, and the mafioso's signature porcelain mask, burnt black.

"That," said the cat, calmly and as light as a feather, "was a warning. From this moment on, no one is allowed to leave this room. And we will not tolerate any such outbursts. We did not go through the trouble of orchestrating their capture for them to be killed unceremoniously. Their deaths must mean something."

Sly nearly jumped out his skin when Bentley started to shout up at the balcony, "So what's your plan!?! I know you're nowhere near being so close minded to be thinking about Sly only! I saw what was on that computer; you're onto something other than just rounding up a brand new Fiendish Five and gutting us! What are you up to!?!"

"Why Raleigh!" the cat said directing her attention towards the frog at the edge of the crowd, "You let them peek."

"Please!" Raleigh said, already on knees, "Forgive me!"

"You let them find out about the new Fiendish Five prematurely," she replied, pouting like a little girl, "and I had a whole speech for it too."

"All I did was invite the people on the list like you asked me, how was I supposed to know The Cooper Gang would show up in London!?!"

"You failed me."

"I DIDN'T KNOW!"

"Hmph…fine. Edgar, end him quickly."

"Vit pleasure mein lady." The raven said in a thick German accent. When Edgar raised one hand, two white gloves, matching his own, darted out from shadows cast by the crowd, and wrapped themselves around Raleigh's throat. Levitating by some unknown force, the gloves raised Raleigh from the ground and held him firmly in the air, strangling him.

Sly tried to run over and help his former enemy, but when he took one step forward, he saw the cat's eyes begin to glow bright once more. Sly had no choice, he had to stay put. Staring at the cat, he also caught a glimpse of Edgar before turning back to Raleigh. The jewels in the bird's hat had turned from blue to blood red, his hair had become an unruly mess and his eyes became so intense that they'd become red rimmed and bloodshot. But worst of all, a grotesque smile, resembling that of a kid tearing the wings from a fly, spread across the bird's face.

Sly turned to Raleigh, he was clawing at the gloves, looking desperately for help or sympathy from his former guests, only receiving the latter. After a minute or so, his clawing began to stop, and his gasping and sputtering became infrequent. Soon, his arms fell limply at his sides, he stopped making noises, and he quietly shut his eyes.

Sir Raleigh the frog was dead.

Edgar snapped his fingers and the gloves disappeared in puff of smoke, leaving the frog's lifeless corpse to fall to the ground. Sly saw the body fall to the floor like a ragdoll. Sly had no love for the frog, but he knew in his heart that nobody should die like that, in front of a crowd to play a part in some sick and grotesque show. It was cruel, ugly, and most importantly, wrong. Sly was going through something he hadn't experienced since he was eight years old. People were being murdered right before his eyes, and he was powerless to stop it.

Sly was filled with a newfound sense of rage. He clenched his teeth and fists before directing his attention towards the cat. "What do you want with me!?! I've never seen you before in my life!! WHO ARE YOU!?!"

"Why Sly," the cat said in a light voice, as if she was at a teaparty and Sly had said something funny, "Don't you remember us? Why it's only been a little over two years since we parted ways in France."

Then it hit Sly like a ton of bricks. France, two years ago, Jesus Christ. In an instant, Sly realized why the cat's dress seemed so familiar, he'd seen it before. Sly remembered back to two years ago, Sly was at another party. One held in India, at a palace, hosted by Rajan back when he still had power. When he saw the dress the first time, it was brown not red, and he couldn't believe he forgot the girl who wore it.

Of course he remembered France two years ago. He remembered it every time he looked at Bentley's wheelchair, and was faced with the ugly fact that his lifelong friend would never be able to walk again. How, could Sly forget the woman who broke his heart, crippled Bentley, framed Carmelita, and threw Murray in jail?

"Neyla?" Sly asked dumbfounded, starting to recognize her beneath the machinery. "How? You--"

"Died?" The cat said, ending Sly's sentence for him. "No. The reports of our death are highly exaggerated. And you know it's not Neyla. We gave that name up the night Arpeggio died. **You** shall address us as Clock-la!"

"But—"

"When the cat thief Neyla fused consciousness with the immortal Clockwerk, the two became enlightened. Creating us. True, whilst in our birth wails, we were only concerned with childish ideals of immortality and vengeance. But when you tried to kill us in France, you were sloppy. True, by smashing the hate chip you killed half of us, but you never thought to look for Neyla, did you? After the chassis exploded, Neyla was cast to the river, and drifted up it. It was divine fate that she didn't perish. After that, she wandered the countryside, living off of the handouts of strangers and their dumpsters, desperately trying to repair her demolished sanity. She had gained nirvana and lost it, the experience leaving her a deranged, hollow shell of her former self. Eventually, she returned to a state of, if not normality, then at least to a state of stability. But she knew that her other half hadn't been completely destroyed, somewhere a voice had always been calling to her. A few months later the voice eventually lead her to you and the little glass box on your shelf. She knew that it wasn't the time to take it back however. To do this, she wouldn't come, sneaking into your home, in the middle of the night, like some dirty rat and take it. Two years ago today, she had a moment of clarity staring at you, by the window and waiting for a call from the hospital to pick up Bentley. Two years ago today, she set herself to gain what she'd lost. She worked for two years, reclaiming her funds and respect, spreading her message and ideals to those who'd listen, setting herself up as a goddess. Waiting until the proper time came to reclaim the chip and become one once again. And finally, after so long, we are one."

"So now that you have the chip, you're just going to kill me?" Sly said disbelievingly.

"Oh good heavens no! We forgave you a long time ago. We realized, what's the point of having immortality if we can be torn asunder? No, we need power. What power is there to gain if we act on simple vengeance alone and kill you?"

"…Then what do you want?"

"We had a vision, of the world. A world in which such horrid things did not occur. What happened to you, Bentley, and your parents was a tragedy."  
"You leave them outta this."

"Regardless, Sly, join us, if we put aside our differences, wouldn't it be worth it to make the world a better place?"

Sly paused for thought on this question. Maybe, just maybe, she was on to something, whatever this plan was, there must be something to it for her to go to such great lengths and not kill him. Then he remembered who was thinking about. But then again he looked at who he was surrounded by and felt pretty sure he knew what the consequences of saying no were.

Then Dimitri voiced his opinion. Whilst keeping his harpoon gun trained on the other guests, he leaned back to whispered into Sly's ear, "Psst, hey listen bro. Ima more so the kinda guy that's for the path that doesn't end with us, but mostly moi, in a meat packing plant. But whatever you go with is cool too, y'know?"

At this Sly turned his head to look at the other members of his gang. They heard what Dimitri said, and they all knew the score. They each in turn caught his eye for a brief moment to give him their encouraging looks, or nods of confidence. Whatever he chose, they'd have his back.

"Oh!" Sly finally exclaimed, "Now I get it, it's all so simple!"

Clock-la smiled at this, and said, "I'm glad that you finally--"

"You're crazy! Here I was banging my head against the wall, when the answer was right there all along! Whew! I'm sure glad we got that sorted out. Okay, Clock-la is it? Well, we have a few other job offers right now, but we'll see what we can do. We'll call back in two months. Don't call us, we'll call you, okay?"

"Sly, Sly, Sly," Clock-la said, disappointedly shaking her head, "We'd really thought you'd grown up. We are out to change the world, lead it into a never ending age of peace and prosperity. An age of enlightenment the likes of which it has never seen before. We shall see to it that it is properly cared for, like the loving goddess it deserves."

"Sure thing lady, try selling that story to the dead frog over there."

"Hmph! Fine, if that is the way you want it." Clock-la then finally returned her attention to the dinner guests, "Ladies and gentlemen, you all have been a breed of most wondrous guests. We must take leave of you now, however we shall contact you all in due time. It is sad to have to say goodbye, but we shan't before saying this;" she pointed one long, crooked, metallic finger at The Cooper gang, and smiled maliciously before saying, "Do with them as you will." The New Fiendish Five then promptly left out the window behind them.

It took several seconds before Clock-la's last words took effect amongst the crowd. But once it did, they all began to turn their heads towards the center of the room. And slowly, one by one, they all began to flash wicked grins.

That's when Sly enacted the best plan he ever thought of. A plan that has never been known to fail him. He asked Bentley what to do.

"Okay Bentley," Sly said to the turtle at his side, "it's been forty seconds; I know you have a plan."

He did have a plan, incidentally, it just wasn't very good. It was full of more holes than a cheese grater and more bent than a corkscrew. But hey! It was the best plan that sprung to mind and it started simply like this; "Guru!" Bentley shouted to the aboriginal mystic, "We need cover!"

The crowd surged forward as The Guru carried out his orders. In an instant, the koala's eyes smoked over and he moved the surrounding tables above him and his comrades, covering several guests in bits of chowder, dip, flecks of prime rib, and various fine wines. The tables blocked a shower of bullets laid down by the guards on the other balconies who clearly failed to realize that with Raleigh dead, their services were no longer required.

Bentley pressed a button that allowed his chair to fire out a fine sheet of caltraps, causing those in the forefront to stumble and try to pull that spikes out. With this moment of clarity Bentley issued more instructions, "Murray! Protect The Guru and Penelope! Everyone else! Set up a perimeter!" And that's just what they did.

The Panda King desperately tried to step forward and engage his enemies, despite that this fight was not going to be easy seeing as he couldn't prepare for Flame-Fu and his rockets were useless under the tables. However every time he did, his footsteps were peppered with gunfire. But that all became unimportant as he heard the all too familiar click of a gun. He looked up from the bull whose neck he was stepping one, expecting to see the predictable muzzle flash, and the playback of his life before his eyes that everyone says happens.

_**KRRT! KRRT! KRRT!**_

Instead, he got to see a big mean St. Bernard take two electric shocks to the head and another to his hand, making him drop the gun.

The Panda King traced the line of fire to the iguana holding the harpoon gun. Dimitri was doing something very un-Dimitri-like, he was fighting and winning. In his time away from the gang, Dimitri had been showing off for the girls, by not only skin diving but showing off his mad shooting skills as well. Over time the girls challenged him to more and more impossible shots. Eventually this womanizing form of sharpshooting lead to Dimitri becoming a regular, shoot from the hip, hit a bottle halfway across town, shoot a target blindfolded, master trick shot. And Bentley took notice.

"Dimitri!" Bentley shouted above the ruckus, "think you can hit the balcony guards?"

"Hmm?" He replied a bit distractedly, currently he was busy shooting the switchblade knives out of the hands of a couple of baboons and then shooting the blades off the knives while in mid air. "Balcony boys? No, no, no, I take one tap dance out from under le table and BLAM! I'm holier than a preacher on Sunday!"  
Bentley pulled out a bomb and chucked it up at the one of the tables, blasting a hole in it. "How 'bout now?"

"Why didn't you ring now-er?" The iguana moved to the center of the team next to Penelope and more importantly The Guru. Together the two started to take down their long range problem. The Guru revolved the tables so that the hole passed over each balcony. Once it did, Dimitri took aim and made sure that nothing would taste right for weeks for everyone. Once that was done the Guru chucked the tables in all directions. For the most part it did take out a lot of the small fries and gave the guys a lot more breathing room, but there was still a ton of people leaving things just as chaotic.

Murray was doing his job, hurt people, hurting 'em real bad, messing 'em up so much that Humpty Dumpty felt bad for **them**. Then he saw **her**. Ohhh, did he remember **her**. He stayed up many nights fantasizing about her, none were pleasant nor were they nonviolent. Six legs, two arms, big red eyes, all trouble. He'd been waiting **years** to see **her** again.

The Contessa was making her way towards the gang, swashing something around in her mouth. Murray knew exactly what it was. Back in prison, on top of being her favorite bag, he was also her prized lab rat. She tested out a poison on him once. He saw her pop as pill in her mouth that mixed with her own natural toxins. When she spat the slime out, it excreted a gas that made him all paranoid and more vulnerable to suggestion. He'd gotten a taste of that garbage once and there was no way he'd let it get close to his friends.

After Murray bade Dimitri to cover Penelope and his master, he barreled forward into the crowd like a runaway train. The best part was that The Contessa didn't even see him coming at first, she only had eyes for Sly, considering him the bigger threat, sucker. When she finally did notice Murray (let's face it, he's a big pink hippo, not something you can just ignore), it was too late, he was practically right on top of her.

She spat the small black wad of sludge at Murray, feeling slightly disappointed that she wouldn't have Sly within her power. She hit him right between the eyes, or at least she would have had it have been a few years ago, but Murray was just a bit faster since then. He saw the gunk coming at him a mile away, he caught it in one gloved hand and made sure to hold his breath. Knocking several more guests out of his way, The Contessa was completely flabbergasted as Murray continued to move towards her, unfortunately she had nowhere to run to. As the chaotic crowd continued to push her forward, Murray moved towards her and smeared the toxic cocktail on his hand all over her face. He then made a point to get out of her line of sight as he said, "They're all out to get you, but The Cooper Gang is trying to protect you."

"Trying to get me?" She replied in a daze, "Yes! Of course! Why didn't I see it before?" Of course all these small minded children were out to get her, they were afraid. Afraid of her and her great ideas, which they could not comprehend. But she'd show them, she'd show them **all!**

The Contessa turned on some poor, unsuspecting hyena trying to reach the hippo slashed the side of his face. After that he wasn't much for laughing, hurt and bewildered he searched for an explanation, but received a swift kick in the nuts instead. (A/N: OOOOH!!! THAT'S GOTTA HURT!)

But that wasn't enough. Sure, one was but **all of** **them **were out to get her. She then shot out a wide net of silk from her *coughbuttcough*, trapping several guests inside. Murray then politely grabbed one end of it, after giving a misguided crocodile a good whap in the jaw. He then spun the net and it's contents high above his head like a medieval mace, he finished the job by swinging the net in a wide arch around himself, knocking several guests on their butts and out, including drugged up and deranged The Contessa. Unfortunately, Murray had strayed too far from the group and had been cut off from them, so he did the only logical thing, he started to cut his own warpath.

"Okay Bentley!" Sly said, fending off three rather brutish moose, "We **need** to get out of here!"

"On it!" Bentley replied "Panda King! Knock out one of the chandeliers!"

"I am far too preoccupied!" Panda King replied, unleashing a storm of rockets upon a barrel of baboons who tried to swarm him.

"Dimitri!"

"Busy!" he too was fighting baboons, but oddly the two groups did not have any affiliation with each other.

"And that's why you have me!" Penelope said above the chaos. Whilst the others were busy flitting away their time on fighting, Penelope was doing the exact thing she was put on the team to do, drive her little car. It was relatively easy to maneuver the car through the crowd's mayhem, and all this time she'd been using the car's guns to pick off those that looked like real threats and not someone that Sly could just knock around with his cane. But she realized quite some time ago that they couldn't take out all these people.

Completely involved with the control's screen, blocking out the world around her, she drove to find something that'd help her get up to the second story and hit the chandelier chains. It must have been some kind of divine intervention that lead her to find a rectangular sushi platter propped up on a broken wine glass in position to make a perfect ramp.

She drove out to get some distance and came back in, hitting the boost button just inches from the ramp. The boosters in the back flared up and shot the car off the ramp and onto one of the stair's hand rails. She drove up the marble railing taking care not to fall off. Once she reached the top, she turned to one of the nearby chandeliers and shot the chain. The chandelier fell a few feet away from the gang, making an almost legendary crash on top of several guests, as well as creating a path towards one of the exits.

"Bingo," Penelope muttered to herself with smug satisfaction.

"Solid work Black Baron," came a superiorly smug voice, one that was way too familiar to Penelope. And why not? She'd only shot it's owner down and out of the sky ever since she was sixteen.

She looked up from her controller's screen and stared down the barrel of one of Muggshot's signature twin Tommy guns. She stared in absolute terror as a smile spread across the brute's face, and his sausage sized finger began to squeeze the trigger. But suddenly, out of nowhere, a chair flew across the room and hit Muggshot's gun. As a knee jerk reaction he pulled the trigger, but the chair knocked his aiming off course, so Penelope nearly had a heart attack as she heard the bullet whiz past her ear.

Then The Guru ran over and leapt to the top of Muggshot's head, which is quite amazing when you consider the size difference. In less than the time it took to blink, Muggshot was within The Guru's power. Muggshot then looked Penelope dead in the eye and snarled, "Get back to work." Feverishly, Penelope did as she was told, meanwhile The Guru made Muggshot give a demonstration as to why one of his nicknames was "Two-gun Tony".

Sly was feeling rather well, all things considered. He'd taken out his fair share of enemies, aside from an occasional punch or kick he'd taken no damage, to be honest it looked like he'd get out of this with a black eye and a few cracked ribs. Then all his happy feelings just seemed to disappear the second he turned around to take on another foe. When he did turn around, he found himself to be abruptly lifted into the air by his neck. And as he began to fight for air, he was able to stare at Rajan at eye level, and to be honest, he didn't like what he saw.

Sly knew that Murray did a real number on Rajan's face, but in the darkness of the streets outside, he couldn't appreciate how good of a job was done. In the few hours that had passed since the fight outside, Rajan's face had swelled, it had swelled real bad. His lower lip was so busted and swollen that he couldn't close his mouth, thus showing that he was now missing a quarter of his teeth, and many of those that remained were cracked and bent. The rest of his face was pock marked with various lumps and dark purple bruises, all of which was accompanied by two dead to rights black eyes.

And as much as Sly would have liked to study this master piece of pain and brutality, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, the fact that Rajan's two extremely powerful hands were strangling the life out of him. Sly was losing air fast, everyone else was too preoccupied with their own enemies to notice. Sly desperately try to pull Rajan's hands away from his throat, but that wasn't working and he found things beginning to turn black.

So in a last desperation attempt, Sly picked the biggest and most swollen bruise on Rajan's face he could find and hit it with his cane using all the strength he could muster. That did the trick. Rajan howled with enormous pain, clenching his eyes shut. He dropped Sly to clutch his face. When Rajan finally pulled his hands away and looked up, he received one of Bentley's knock out darts right between the eyes, and from there you know what happens.

With Bentley covering him, Sly was left on the ground, fighting desperately to fill his lungs with air once more. As he coughed and sputtered, Sly's gaze came across one of the restaurant's many exits. It was there that he saw her again for the second time tonight. Mz. Ruby was making her way outside and as she opened the door, she stopped, turned, and stared at Sly dead on. For a moment, sound seemed to disappear to Sly and Mz. Ruby looked as though she was about to say something. But instead, she merely smiled, winked at him, and disappeared into the night.

This of course left Sly utterly and totally confused. But then an odd thought struck him. He strained his ears to hear a sound. Amid the yelling and the fighting, he didn't think he'd hear it, he was about to give up but then he found it. It was a faint glimpse of it, but he'd heard it. And then the sound began to get louder and louder. And as it did, the crowd began to stop fighting and yelling, listening to the sound in a trance. Sly knew that sound all too well, it was as familiar to him as walking a tightrope or picking a pocket. It was the sound of sirens.

The crowd stood entranced until someone finally snapped out of it and shouted "IT'S THE POLICE!!!" Instantly, the room was thrown back into a state of chaos, but of a different kind. The idea of revenge on The Cooper Gang suddenly seemed unimportant when compared to the idea of more jail time. In seconds, the restaurant's exits became a flooded mess as many guests scrambled to get through and get away from the oncoming police. Those that tried the windows were met with the sad fact that they were barred.

And so, now abandoned by their would be killers, The Cooper Gang was now left alone to discuss their next plan of action.

"What are we going to do Bentley?" Penelope asked, picking up her RC car.

"All the exits are packed!" Murray piped up, "We'll never get out of here in time!"

"Yeah man," Dimitri said exhaustedly, "I'm in no mood to be skinned up in **another** batch of orange jumpsuits. Making license plates is **so **not my thing."

"Okay, okay!" Bentley snapped, "I don't work well under pressure. Let me think…Panda King, how many rockets you got left?"

"A few," The Panda King replied, "Why?"

"Trust me a few is all we'll need. Put 'em in your mortar, and put these in as well." Bentley pushed a button his chair, the chair then unloaded the compartment that contained all his explosives.

The Panda King did as he was told. "What now?"

Bentley paused to think for a moment and pointed to his left, "Throw your mortar at that wall."

The Panda King unstrapped his mortar from his back and flung it at the wall. Mortar collided with brick, paint, and plaster and exploded, blasting a large hole that lead to the alley outside. The explosion went unnoticed by the other guests, leaving the exit uncrowded.

"Okay," Bentley said regaining his composure, "with the mayhem going on outside, it'll be easy for us to slip past the cops, from here we go to the van and then to the boat and we are out of London."

"Good," Sly said, "I'll meet you guys at the van."

"Wait, where are you going?" Murray asked.

"I gotta see Clock-la again. If I catch her here and now, maybe we can just go back to our lives after tonight, and there won't be any more bloodshed."

"Cooper," The Panda King said doubtingly, "I what makes you think she's even around here still?"

"She's half-Neyla, half-Clockwerk right? And if I know Neyla, and you've had your fair share of Clockwerk to know that if either of them were to order a bunch of thugs to rip us limb from limb, they'd definitely stick around to watch."

"But Sly," Bentley said earnestly, "We don't know what this Clock-la is capable of! In all probability, **she could kill you.**"

"I gotta at least try!"

"…Fine, we'll see you at the van."

"Are you serious?" Penelope asked, "You can't let him do this Bentley, you said it yourself, he could get killed out there!"

"His mind's made up, we can't stop him."

"Glad you can understand," Sly said, grinning wryly.

"Just make sure you come back, will you?" Bentley said, returning the smile, "I intend for you to show up at my funeral, not the other way around."

With that, Sly and the gang went their separate ways. Bentley and the others through the hole in the wall, Sly up the stairs and through the same window Clock-la and her lot went through.

Through the window was a flag pole which Sly latched onto. He scaled to the top of the pole and paraglided over to one of the buildings surrounding the restaurant. As he did, he got a good look at the streets below.

Things were a lot more hectic than he imagined they would be. The streets were in anarchy, cops chasing down bad guys left and right, explosions going off here and there, some of the ball's guests had just resorted to looting while they were still free. Sly could tell that most were going to be caught. True some would slip through the cops fingers, but not the amount that would be of any use to whatever Clock-la had in mind. 'That's one point for me at least,' Sly thought bitterly, landing on a building.

From there, Sly ran from rooftop to rooftop, searching the skies, hoping to find some winged silhouette. He was stopped in his tracks however, by a woman's voice, just not the woman he was expecting.

"FREEZE!"

Sly stopped searching, and turned around to find Carmelita pointing her shock pistol at him. He didn't expect to see Carmelita so soon, he was completely unprepared for what he was going to say if he did see her. As he struggled to form some line of dialogue, he was astounded to see Carmelita lower her weapon.

"Sly," she sighed, "We need to talk."

Looking at her now, Sly could tell she wasn't having an easy time without him. Her hair was unkempt, her clothes were wrinkled, and Sly could see that she'd been biting her nails, something she only did when she was scared or worried. Not that Sly was one to talk. In the weeks that followed their last meet in Chicago, Sly had been an emotional wreck. He was so depressed that he barely got out of bed in the morning, and he rarely saw it fit to change his clothes. If Dimitri and Panda King hadn't received their invitations, and he didn't have the idea of tonight's work occupying his mind, Sly couldn't imagine what shape he'd be in now.

But here? Now? She wanted to talk? She had no idea how happy he was to hear her say that. That's all he wanted, more than anything else in the world was at least the chance to talk. Sly had started to say yes, but then he saw **her**.

Clock-la was using he wings to hover in midair behind Carmelita. She saw Sly and flashed him a wicked smile. Then her eyes began to glow bright, Sly knew what was coming next. There was no time to warn Carmelita, and he'd never get over to push her out of the way in time. So in a last ditch attempt, Sly threw his cane at Carmelita.

_**PTEEEW!**_

The cane struck Carmelita in the head, knocking her down. The lazer beams passed harmlessly over Carmelita but burnt a rather nasty hole into the roof. Clock-la pouted once more at having missed her target. She stamped her feet in midair and flew off into the darkness, to commit only God knows what. Sly would worry about her later, right now the important thing was Carmelita's well being.

Sly ran to the edge of his roof and leapt, catching the edge of Carmelita's. He pulled himself up, ran to and knelled down at Carmelita's side. She was unconscious, and aside from a nasty bump on her head, she'd be fine.

This was one of the few moments in Sly's life where he had absolutely no idea what to do. He could just leave, but he had no idea what Clock-la in her deranged mind might do if she were to comeback and find Carmelita still out. Sly could also just take her with him. He knew the gang wouldn't be too crazy about the idea of having her on the ship. And there was no guarantee she wouldn't wake up on the way to the van. And it's possible that is he does, She'll be marked as an outlaw again, and as much fun as those months were for him, they were hell on her. But at least he'd have a chance to explain things.

Suddenly, Sly's choice was made for him. Several shock blasts zoomed past his head. Sly looked up to see that several of Carmelita's ape mercs had caught up with her. They were going all out, firing on Sly like crazy. But let's face it, the first thing they see is their boss, who has saved each of their lives at one point, on the ground and out, with the main guy they've been searching for all these weeks keeling over her. Of course they're going to open fire.

Sly gathered up his cane and ran off. However, all his years of thievery had developed a fine tuned, keen sense of sound. So unfortunately, he wasn't out of earshot when he heard the following:

"Inspector Fox!" The squadron commander shouted, "Are you alright?"

"…Yes," Carmelita said in a daze, "I'm fine…Sly Cooper attacked me."

She had no idea how much pain those words brought him.

* * *

Later, I met up with the gang as scheduled. And as the van sped towards the London dockyard and awkward silence filled the van. True, we he had the computer, and the party's guests were going to jail, we still won. But no one wanted to celebrate.

Someone came to our safe house, and picked us up like we were nothing. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they could've killed us if they wanted to. In fact, if this version of The Fiendish Five had taken a more direct approach, instead of leaving it to the dinner guests, we'd be dead.

What transpired at the end of the job left everyone feeling insecure and uncertain.

Dimitri kept chewing on his knuckles, and darting his eyes out the window. Penelope was only capable of polishing her car before falling into a fitful sleep. Murray was engrossed in driving the speed limit the whole time, long after the cops had been looking for us. Panda King every so often would move his hand to his artillery belt, trying to grab rockets that weren't there. The Guru was sweating profusely, despite being in a deep meditating trance. Bentley was impossible to read, his face buried in his computer, occasionally he'd cast an extremely worried look at Penelope and just get back to work.

And me? Well I was twitchy and agitated. I kept imagining Clock-la's glowing white eyes in every dark corner we drove past.

A new Fiendish Five? The last one under Clockwerk's rule left me an orphan, and it nearly killed me, Murray, Bentley, and Carmelita. And the fact that this Clock-la seemed to be more powerful than Clockwerk was completely frightening. I kept thinking about the fear in Raleigh's eyes just before he, well…you know.

And whenever those thoughts went away, I was left thinking about what Carmelita had said. She said that I **attacked** her. My god, I only threw my cane at her to protect her. But that's not what she saw. All she saw was that Sly Cooper, master thief, attacked her just to get away. The exact thing a **criminal** would do.

This all left me to think, that even if I overcame this Clock-la, her Fiendish Five, and whatever sinister plot she's been working on, would it even be worth it if there was no Carmelita to return to?

* * *

And that's the end of not only chapter six, but act one as well folks. It's been crazy hasn't it!?! Okay peoples, let's take a moment to congratulate those crazy kids from down the street who took time out of their lives to make me feel better about myself.

**Darkmark149:** Hey there champ, it was no big deal for me to review your story, I haven't seen it updated for awhile, I hope you haven't given up on it, that would be a shame. Hang in there and keep writing will ya?

**Green Phantom Queen:** Well, I hope that further updates will be even better than that last update. If not, well, I'm very, very sorry, to you and everyone. And as for your story, whatever it is you got, bring it on!!! Do your worst, I promise not to squeal or run out of the theater. What!?! Five stars? You give me five gold stars and **no** cookie!?! You cheapskate. Just joking, hope to hear from you soon.

**Winnow:** I got to work, and here we are, what've you got to say now hotshot?

**sotnosen93:** Gee whiz, if I knew Swedish I'd probably say thanks to whatever it was that was said (No, seriously, what did you say?). It's great to hear from you, but I feel you should know that whips don't threaten me, neither do chains. In fact they sorta induce the opposite effect (you'll get that joke when you're older).

**cullenfan:** Thanks for the support pal, but next time you review, sign it something other than cullenfan. I **despise** that insufferable, sparkling prick.

**amishparadise428:** Well, it's my mission that by the end of this story, I've written at least one or two chapter to top it.

**haroecooper:** That I will haroe, that I will.

Okay! That's it for now, but I will update soon so hold on to your hats and don't take that last train out of town just yet. But I must remind you folks to remind me to roll my fat lazy carcass up to my interwebs machine and crank out another chapter, else wise I WILL FORGET!!! So see ya soon, please R+R. Later.


	8. Machines of Madness

Good evening. Welcome and if you'll please be seated, we shall shortly serve Chapter the Seventh, in which our heroes engage in an arctic expedition, traverse the savage jungle, and meet a circle of man's deadliest counterpart.

* * *

After the night at the party, we laid low for a couple of weeks. Only docking for a few hours at a time, leaving the ship only to get the bare necessities. In all that time, Bentley was practically super glued to his computer, comprising as much information as he could on Clock-la and her activities. His research pulled up something quite interesting.

The Cult of Clock-la. It turned out Clock-la wasn't joking when she said that she'd set herself up as a god. This was an entire organization that worshipped that insane mix of monster and manipulator. These were desperate and deranged people who heralded her every utterance as gospel. People who'd gladly maim, murder, steal and **die** for her. People the world could do without. The Cult was a fearsome force indeed.

Of course they called themselves a bit more flattering, the same story was usually found with them claiming to be advocates seeking to bring about a new age of light and whatever other insane nonsense they spouted. In truth, they'd become a real thorn in everyone's side, stealing and creating carnage where ever they went. Kidnapping the poor, young and homeless, brainwashing them to fill out The Cult's ranks. They'd even managed to overthrow a few small countries, instating puppet governments loyal to the cult and it's beliefs. They needed to be stopped.

So we set sail towards our first elected target from the Fiendish Five, Dr. Roy Burgherstinsanmeyer, or Dr. Burger for short, all around flower child and mad scientist extraordinaire.

In a time of great turmoil, Roy Burger was born a golden child. Raised all American, Roy Burger was his high school's captain of not only the football team, but the school's chess club, debate team, baseball team, and basketball team as well. He was the town's pride and joy, despite the fact that he had long hair and rode a motorcycle. By age fifteen, he'd received his first of numerous doctorates in various fields of applied sciences.

After his graduation however, he joined the hippie revolution of the 1960's, becoming a strong voice in numerous forest preservation, civil rights and anti-war groups. He voiced a strong opinion of overthrowing the government and was arrested on several occasions for his various anarchist schemes and actions that worked towards the Russian's benefit.

However, when it looked like flower power mixed with guerilla warfare wouldn't do the trick, he tried his hand at atomic power and missiles. He then spent the next thirty years hatching and enacting hundreds of nefarious schemes to overthrow the American government, battling super hero and secret agent alike.

But when the Berlin wall fell, so did all his hopes of a new communist world order. He was then faced with the sad fact that his great revolution, which he'd fought so hard for all his life, was never going to happen. Realizing this, he shed an enraged tear, burnt all his protest songs, cut all ties with friend and foe alike, and became a recluse, vanishing from the eyes of the world.

Rumors circulated for years that he'd retired to his so called "secret" ice fortress in Antarctica, and that's just where we're going to look. I have no idea what this tie dyed madman is doing working for Clock-la, nor would I want to. But that's just bad news for me. Hopefully with some luck, it'll be even worse news for him.

* * *

**Sly Cooper**

**and The Gang**

**in…**

_**Machines of Madness**_

* * *

**Somewhere in the Antarctic, 2:18am**

**WHHRRRR-**_**KREET!**_

"Well, that's it," Bentley said. "That was the last drill bit, Sly you're on foot from here."

There were four of them on deck; Sly, Bentley, Penelope, and Murray, who was at the ship's wheel. Sly was amazed to see that the sun was out at two in the morning. He'd read about summer in Antarctica, just never believed that a place could be sunny for twenty-four hours a day. Looking at the sun in the middle of the night, Sly wondered what kind of person could live in such a crazy place.

"Huh?" Sly said, coming out of his reverie.

"That was the last drill bit, the boat can't cut through anymore ice, from this point on you're walking."

"I got a question," Murray said, "How come Penelope gets the only pair of mittens on board? I **am** the one who's out here all day steering the ship."

"Because," Penelope said daintily, rubbing her mittened hands together, "girls are delicate and fragile things, they need to be pampered and handled gently."

"Yeah right! You threatened to crack open my master's knee caps with his own cane if he tried to steal any more of **your** orange juice."

"Hey! I clearly markered my name on the carton, he knows the risks he's taking."

"Guys," Bentley cut in, "we need to focus on the job at hand."

"Why? As far as I know; Sly's the only one who has to trek through the ice and snow."

"Gee, thanks," Sly said sardonically, trying and failing at every attempt to be cheery about sloshing through a barren frozen wasteland.

"Don't worry Sly," Bentley said, trying to cheer Sly up, "if everything works out the way I hope it will, we'll all be out of the cold before we know it."

"Yet I'm the one who has to go first?"

"A minor inconvenience. Let's face it, world's greatest thief makes you the scout nine times out of ten."

"Okay so where am I headin'?"

Bentley paused to look at the sun for a location reference, and then pointed a little to the left of the ship's heading, "Two or three miles that-a-way."

"Why can't I take the van or plane?"

"Things can get pretty hectic out here on the ice, I'm sure Murray doesn't want us taking any unnecessary risks with the van. Plus, if the good doctor **is** out here, a big blue biplane with flashing lights and our logo on it could just tip him off that we're here too. Crazy idea, I know, but it's so crazy it just might work."

"Okay, I get what you're saying, but why me?"

"Uhh...master thief, lock pick extraordinaire, any of this ringing a bell?"

"WHAT!?! Why I've never stolen a thing in my life! I'm ashamed at you sir for trying to impure my good honor! Good day!"

And with that, Sly ran towards the nearest end of the deck and landed a perfect triple back flip over the edge. 'Okay,' Sly thought, morbidly surveying the field of frozen white before him, 'This is gonna be about as much fun as a barrel of rabid gorillas.' (A/N: I've seen one, and they aren't as much fun as they sound.)

So on Sly walked. And walked. And walked. Then he got really angry because it was so unbelievably cold. Stomping up and down, he swore that he was going to crack Dr. Burger's noggin wide open for building his lab in such a stupid place. After that, that's right, you guessed it, he walked.

After what seemed an eternity, Bentley's voice finally crackled in over the binoc-u-com.

"Okay Sly, you should be approaching the lab's main gate *slurp*."

"What was that?" Sly replied through chattering teeth, rubbing his arms for warmth.

"What was what?"

"That slurping sound."

"Oh, it got really cold for a moment, so Panda King whipped up a batch of hot chocolate. With the way he makes it, it really warms you up."

"You have no idea how much I hate you right now."

"Quit complaining, *slurp* the sooner you're in the lab, the sooner you're out of the cold. Do you see the gate or not?"

Sly pivoted in a circle, and in all directions surrounding the hill he was marching up, there was absolutely nothing. "Sorry pal, just snow, snow, and more snow." Sly then continued his arduous walk up the hill.

"Then if you're not approaching the gate, you should be at the garden."

"What garden?"

_**CRACK!**_

At that moment, the ice crumbled under Sly's feet, plunging him straight down. Tumbled and spun as he fell. He tried and failed many times to stab his cane into the side of the ice wall. When he finally did latch onto something, his vision turned from white to green in an instant. Sly looked to see what had just saved his life and was surprised to see that his cane grabbed onto the branch of a rather large tree.

Sly pulled himself up to see that he'd fallen down a hole in the ice the allowed natural sunlight to be reflected off the ice and into the area he was in now. Sly turned to see that the tree he was in was accompanied by several others, all within the area of two football fields. It was hard for Sly to believe what his own eyes were saying, but beneath the ice and entombed in a metal plated dome was an honest to goodness tropical rainforest.

Unfortunately, Sly's body wasn't prepared for such a radical climate change of 14 degrees (Fahrenheit) to a humid 89. In short Sly started to sweat so much he wouldn't need a hose to run a respectable slip 'n' slide. Sly nearly fell for the second time in three minutes, but he managed to scrabble up his cane and onto the branch to which he owed his life.

"*krsh*ly are you *krsh*kay?" Bentley fizzled in weakly.

It took Sly a second to decipher the message, before replying, "Yeah, I'm fine pal, but your signals coming in real weak."

"*krsh* the metal *krsh*ting in the *krsh*ratory. I'll *krsh* to*krsh*ix the signal. Find *krsh*urger."

Sly slowly, made his way down the incredibly tall tree, and as he descended through the canopy, Sly, marveled at the beauty of the forest, and in an instant realized why the doctor used to fight so fiercely for places like this. When he finally made it to the leaf strewn floor, Sly walked in what direction he thought the nearest wall was at. His plan was once he was at the wall, he'd edge along it to the door, simple.

Sly made his way through the jungle, making sure to steer clear of as many plants as possible. From all the stories Sly grew up on about the infamous Dr. Burger, the last thing he wanted to do was be poisoned by a spiked vine or gobbled up by some flower. It was slow goings, Sly was hesitant about every step, until he heard something quite unexpected. He didn't know if he'd heard it at first, but the sound repeated itself, and Sly was sure that he'd heard the sound of giggling.

Sly silently took to the trees and rushed from branch to branch in the direction of the noise. As he got nearer to it's source, other noises, such as music and the crackling of firewood became audible as well.

Sly reached the last tree before a clearing. From it, he saw a bonfire, a radio blasting the best of the Beach Boys, and one of the most beautiful sights he'd seen yet. Dancing to the music and around the bonfire was a gang of smiling, laughing, tanned, lotioned, and bikinied girls. Well, couldn't really call them girls with bodies like **those** now could he? They were far too*cough* well built for such a demeaning term.

For a second, Sly nearly forgot what he was doing, and almost went out and *cough* introduced himself. If it weren't for his devotion to duty and the fear that Carmelita could spring up out of nowhere, Sly would be out there dancing himself. That decision would have killed him.

From out of the trees a butterfly flew over the party. At that moment, everything changed. The girl's stopped dancing and stared at it, all of them sharing the same stone cold, heartless, and expressionless face. Suddenly in unison the girl's shouted in a screechy electronic voice, "LIFE FORM DETECTED!" Then all their eyes glowed red and they shot lasers from them, flash frying the insect and turning it to ashes in the blink of an eye.

"Oh my gawd," one red head said in a voice so normal and sugary that you'd never know what just happened, "Bugs are like, so not groovy and stuff."

"I know man," said a brunette, twirling her hair around their finger, "they are totally disgusting."

"Yeah, they just give me the creeps," remarked a dirty blonde with a large afro. Visibly shaking, a bolt fell out from her hair and one of the other girls saw it.

"Uh oh sister," said another long haired brunette with a smiley faced headband, "looks like you got a screw loose, you should like, I dunno, see The Burger or something."

At that moment, the small boombox by the fire belted out, "IT'S THE LITTLE OLD LADY FROM PASEDINAAAAA!!!!" At that moment, the girls all squealed in unison and returned to their dancing.

Sly sat, stared, and wondered how something so deadly could be so…ditzy. Then he smiled to himself and thought, 'Gee Sly, you really know how to pick 'em. If they're not shooting at you, or stabbing you in the back, they turn out to be evil, killer robots. Nice.'

Sly tore his eyes away from the deadly jungle party to see if there was anything else, when he saw that just beyond the other side of the clearing was the exit, his heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he made his way from tree to tree around the party, taking extreme care to make as little noise as possible. The small pile of bug ashes was a constant reminder of the consequences.

Finally, Sly got close enough to the doors that he jumped down from the safety of the trees and ran to the doors. The two doors slid apart with a _**WHOOSH!**_ and closed with the same zest. Once through doors and past a shower of beads, Sly's first thought was; 'Silver?' It was chrome to exact, but that didn't change the fact that there was a lot of it. Sly had entered a very long hallway, and each and every wall was covered in the shiny material. Indeed, the place would have had a real sorta Star Trek vibe to it, if it weren't for the fact that the carpeting was multicolored and emblazoned with ying-yang symbols, and the fact that every single door had bead curtains in front of them.

A little ways down and across the hall from Sly was a rather large window. Sly being, well, who he was, he couldn't resist. So he walked over to the window and peeked into it. He did not like what he saw. Dr. Burger's laboratory was much larger than Sly had imagined. Looking down, Sly saw that several **stories** below was a factory floor that took up the size of half a small town.

Below in one half, there was a large expanse of workbenches and testing areas, with several more robots, dressed in lab coats, tight shirts and skimpy short skirts. There, the ladies studied stacks of crudely drawn blueprints and worked on everything from flying tanks to lazer firing assault rifles. None of it was stuff Sly wanted to be on the wrong end of.

On the other end, there were several more girls, dressed in equally skimpy construction worker uniforms. From what Sly saw, it looked as though they were converting more lab area into the makings of what was probably an assembly line. It was there that the construction bots cleared away work stations, lifted ten ton pieces of machinery with their bare hands, and welded them together with their eye lasers.

And all of it seemed to be hooked into and powered by a large, glowing glass pillar that was easily the size of a skyscraper. Inside was some sort of yellow liquid with several large blobs of glowing red gunk floating up and down through it. At it's base were several pipe and tubes that lead to various work stations and projects. It all was an impressive sight indeed.

After snapping a few recon photos for Bentley, Sly then heard footsteps coming from around a nearby corner and looked for a place to hide. Unfortunately, the hallway was awful scarce on vases, tables, statues, lamps, and, well, everything else he used for cover. Sly then looked up and saw that in addition to several fluorescent lights, there was a large group of pipes that ran the entire length of the hall and there was just enough space between them and the ceiling for him to squeeze in and hide.

With his goal in mind, Sly ran to one of the walls and jumped from it to get enough height to latch his cane onto the pipes. He pulled himself up and nestled himself into the space and out of sight, just as a **certain** someone came bouncing around the corner.

It'd been a while since Sly had seen him, but he looked exactly as Sly remembered him, with the exception that today he was wearing a pair of blue sunglasses. But nevertheless, this was, without a doubt, the one and only, world famous Dr. Burger. And as he strutted down the hall, a message rang out for him from some unknown intercom.

"Dr. Burger," the voice rang out, "You are fashionably late for your meeting with Clock-la, please get to your office before things become uncool."

Thoughtfully running his fingers through the long braided strands of his beard, the doctor replied slowly replied in a raspy voice, as if he were in a dream, "Hmm…sounds…like…I dunno…important." At that point, the old lion jovially picked up his pace and moved down the hall, with Sly dutifully tailing behind by crawling on the pipes to keep up.

Together, they traveled around several corners and finally to what looked to be a reception area. In here the walls were all yellow, with several smiley faces poking out of it. The color of the hallway walls seemed to merely migrate towards the receptionist who sat behind a desk made of clear green plastic. Everything she wore, her lipstick, her two sizes too small foam rubber one piece, her beehive hairdo, all of it was silver or painted to be as such.

"Ah, Dr. Burger," the receptionist said looking up from filing her already perfectly manicured nails, "She's been waiting, I've already called up the elevator."

"Okay, first off, chickie babe," Dr. Burger started off, "Dr. Burger is, like, my father. It's Roy, just Roy, got it?"

"Sure thing Dr. Burger," the receptionist said, returning to her nails.

"Groovy," and with that, part of the wall to the left of the desk parted to reveal a elevator that, excluding it's top, bottom, and control panel, was made entirely out of glass. The doctor entered the elevator, pressed a button and the doors closed.

Unfortunately, for Sly, where the reception area began, the pipes, which he used for cover, began. As far as he could tell, there was no way to get close to the door without being seen. Bentley would've called him crazy for what he was about to do, but information, any bit of it was crucial, and Sly could see from a mile away that there was more than a few tidbits were being slung around in that meeting.

Sly waited for the temp to return to her nails before lowering himself from the pipes. He then crouched low to the floor so as to stay out of her direct line of sight. He circled around to her back before reaching into his side pouch for possibly his most underappreciated weapon in his arsenal. Picking one of the smaller side pockets sewn into the pouch, Sly took out a relatively small object, no bigger than his thumb, the shape of a clock, The Alarm Clock gadget. Sly chucked the small piece of machinery over the receptionist and into the hall. Upon impact, this everyday testament to Bentley's inventiveness and practicality rang out in what sounded like an entire chorus of cathedral bells.

Smirking at the obvious improvements Bentley made to the gizmo's design, Sly slid back further to give the oblivious machine all the room she needed to check out the noise without discovering him. As she entered the hall, Sly went towards the desk and twice pressed a button clearly marked for the elevator door.

Once again the double doors that made a section of the room's wall slid open to reveal cables and the whir of machines lowering the doctor's lift. Sly rushed into the shaft, just as the doors closed, almost catching the thief by his striped tail. Shrouded in complete darkness, Sly slid down the cables, taking care not to go too fast. He soon caught up with the doctor and noiselessly stepped onto the roof of the lift.

After a few minutes, Sly began to wonder why the doctor made the passenger area of the lift out of glass, when suddenly several lights on the roof activated, giving Sly his answer and more. The shaft ceased to be made of metal at this point and had been made with glass as well. Sly was awestruck as he watched a school of local fish become startled by the sudden light and swim away and around the glass tube.

"Sly, look around you." Sly nearly jumped out of his skin until he recognized Bentley's voice on the binoc-u-com.

Doing as he was told, Sly heard several gasps and awes of amazement on the other end. He too marveled at the modern wonder in which he sat, and the more he viewed, the more he was impressed. He was amused for quite a bit by observing the local sea life but Sly soon turned upwards and, thanks to the lights coming out of the labs windows, saw that Dr. Burger's laboratory was still as immaculately spotless as it was over thirty years ago, thanks to the diligent work of the doctor's androids, who were even then working to remove algae from the lab's stainless steel exterior.

Sly also saw the gigantic glass tube extending downwards beyond the lab. He followed its path downward to see that it plunged deep into the heart of massive underwater volcano. Sly finally started to see the whimsical logic of this place and now understood that the doctor's entire base of operations was powered by a giant lava lamp.

Both Sly and the gang back at the ship were thoroughly humbled as they came to grips with the caliber and class of criminal they were now dealing with. Sly gazed down to see his destination and saw that the elevator was connected to, it lead down to, of all things, a yellow submarine. (A/N: I'm sure you kids'll get this reference easy.)

The lift finally entered the sub and ended it's journey. Sly silently thanked whatever star he was born under that gave him such a stroke of luck. When the lift stopped, it placed Sly perfectly in front of a grate, which was probably used for the circulation of breathable air from the lab to the sub. From where Sly sat, he had a perfect view of the room beyond the elevator.

The room in question shared the same décor as the halls of the lab above, with the exception that the room was lit by several candles along the floor. There were several computer stations along walls whose purpose Sly could only imagine. But Sly could clearly see that the doctor's true pride and joys were the massive truck sized beanbag chair and the large wall encompassing flat screen TV.

Dr. Burger exited the elevator, oblivious of his shadowy companion. He walked over to touch the television and ran his hand along it's glassy surface. The doctor turned towards his bean bag chair and sprinted towards it before pouncing on it like a little kid. Righting himself, the doctor turned to face the massive screen. "Spock, on screen," the doc said in his raspy voice, doing a surprisingly good Captain Kirk impression.

Instantaneously as the doc's sentence ended, the TV lit up, portraying a larger than life image of Clock-la face.

"Ah, Dr. Burger, it's a pleasure as always."

"Hey man," the doctor replied in his dazed tone of voice, fiddling with the beads in his long beard.

"With your tardiness, we were wondering if we were worth your time and that you might not care for the revolution."

"WHAT!?!" The doctor exclaimed in genuine shock, "No! I was just… like… y'know… lying around 'n' stuff."

"Hmph, fine. Status report? The general is getting waiting for his arsenal."

"Hmm…well the little red dude's stuff will be ready by the end of…like…" the doctor rolled back his coat sleeve to see the notes he'd penned on it, "Okay dude, it'll be done in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Clock-la said in a less than impressed tone of voice, "You said it'd be done a month ago."

"I'm just working out the last few bugs and converting a city size lab into a functioning weapons plant is no small order. But if you want half finished ray guns that explode and set your dudes on fire, who am I to argue?"

"…Hmph, two weeks is fine we suppose…However, since this is a critical period in your operations, we are sending Killer to oversee your security."

"Oh yeah man, that sounds really groovy, but like, why?"

"Our intelligence operatives have lost the Cooper Gang and-"

"Who?"

"…The Cooper Gang."

"Are they the ones with the van-"

"Yes."

"And they solve mysteries?"

"No. They're the ones we tried to kill."

"Yeah, that narrows down the list."

"IN LONDON!"

Ohhh! Those guys. Okay now I get ya. What about those dudes?

"Our intelligence operatives have lost their location."

"Well that's not cool."

"It matters not, they've already been executed for their treasonous actions of failing us. Killer shall arrive in four days. Do try not to irritate, you wonderful mind would be a great loss to the new world."

"Geez, you try to play doctor once and suddenly you're branded as a pervie."

"Keep up the good work."

"Wait babycakes, I got like one more question."

"…Fine, what must you ask us?"

"Well, I just gotta know, how much wood would a woodchuck-"

At this point the television simply cut off, seeing as Clock-la would not answer such a highly important question, leaving Dr. Burger to chuckle over his joke. To the two revolutionaries, this was a reasonably good meeting, an omen for many great things to come. Little did they know of the raccoon who had spied upon their meeting and fed both audio and video information to one of the world's greatest schemers.

"Okay Sly," Bentley said, as the lift reactivated, return it's passengers to the laboratory above, "Get more recon photos while I think of a plan of attack."

Sly smiled and, going with the flow of this next mission, replied, "Groovy."

* * *

And that's chapter seven for you folks at home. I'm really sorry that it not only took me two weeks to update, but it's one of the shorter updates, but hey, it's the setup.

So let's hi, hello, and give thank to our faithful reviewers, those folks at home who really make my day.

**MewFairySakura:** Why thank you kindly miss, I checked out your story and it's not that bad an idea, it just needs a little more polish and thought put into and you'll be right on the ball.

**haroecooper: **Misunderstood? Well what'd you expect? Can't have 'em get back together too early in the story, we need something to push it from either being happily ever after or Shakespearian tragedy for Sly now don't we?

**sotnosen93:** Ooooooh. Yeah I'm 18, so please don't sick dateline on me, I'm innocent…well innocent enough anyway. Uh…PSP?

**Green Phantom Queen:** Thanks man. But I don't think my story's all **that **great. Now when you say some getting their just desserts, who in particular are you referring to? Anyways, thanks for the cookies (about time, you smarmy star giver you). I did peer at your stories and I think they're pretty good.

Ooookay! Now for our last minute announcements. First and up front, I once again apologize for the taking so long with the upsdate. Also I promised a fresh new writer to tell you about their story. "The Cooper X Gang" by Mutitoon90, it looks like it can really make a name for itself, and the chimp at the wheels could do with some support. Last and certainly not least, shout at me if it's been waaay too long since an update, I WILL FORGET!

It's been a real treat writing for you guys and I swear I'll update soon.


	9. Machines of Madness P1

Fantastic, now, the first course of tonight's meal consists of a fine rascasse bouillabaisse, coupled with Chapter the Eighth, in which our heroes move to a temporary home, give blind to the seeing/laser sighted, and Penelope gets a makeover.

* * *

"Alright guys," Bentley said to the others, his projector set upon the one of the walls of the captain's quarters, "It's already obvious that this is not going to be an easy mission." **CLICK **A window photo of the lab's factory floor. "It's clear that Dr. Burger is capable of fantastic feats of scientific prowess, but since all these things will be aimed at us, it will make our destruction of the Clock-la cult all that much harder. In short, both he and his lab have got to go." **CLICK **A picture of Burger and Clock-la's meeting. "Unknowingly, our enemies have set our deadline for us. We all know Dr. Burger will be no cakewalk, so we really don't need another Fiendish Five member to make things even worse. So firstly-" **CLICK **An aerial map, showing the distance between the ship and the lab. "It takes three hours, roundtrip, from the ship to the lab. Since we're dealing with a four day work period we really can't take that much of a hit time wise. Plus, no one here wants to freeze their butts off more than they need to." **CLICK** The lab's interior halls. "Sly's already located a perfect base of operations. It's a security monitoring area for back when the doctor had living henchmen. It's old, but it should still be hooked into the system. Unfortunately, we'll need some monitoring equipment from the ship to make the stuff in there work." **CLICK** Dimitri in scuba gear. "We can't sneak into the base with all that junk, so Dimitri, your first job will be transport the gear in a sub capsule to the outer wall of our ops station. Secondly-" **CLICK **The beach bunny robots flash frying the butterfly. "It will be impossible to do anything when we're dealing with monstrosities like these. The key elements of their ferocity are their super strength and laser vision." **CLICK** It was a wall socket the size of a door with a security pad next to it. "While nothing can be done for their strength, we can at least dole out some damage to their lasers. Their laser vision needs to be recharged once every six hours. So by disabling these outlets, we can work without the fear of becoming a deep fried side dish. After that-" **CLICK **The factory floor once more. "We'll need a little bit more info on how this place operates. What are the major projects, when will the assembly line be finished, how does the lamp work. Things like that. Alright, we have our missions, let's get to it."

* * *

**The Not So Silent World**

**

* * *

The Antarctic, 8:49pm**

"Hokay boss man," Dimitri said to Bentley on the ship's deck, he was geared and ready to dive when the turtle stopped him. "You picking a bone on me?"

"No, I just wanted to go over the mission specs one last time before you under the ice. You're taking the capsule sub to the north-eastern wall, fourteen fathoms deep, **wait** by the window with the number sixty in **giant**, **white** numbers. You got that?"

"Yeah, sure deal." His statement would have been just a tad bit more believable, had he the forethought to not to become so engrossed in the action of not only scratching his armpits, but sniffing them as well.

"Oh yeah? Then what did I say?"

"Take tub to wall, turtle opens door for Dimitri, is easy peasy, rice and cheesey."

"There was no door! Listen Dimitri, while you may not personally use this stuff, I can guarantee you that this operation will be impossible to conduct without it. Not to mention that if you mess this up, well, I know **I'm** not the one who died underwater and at sea. So what are my orders **exactly**."

"Take tub to north-eastish flat spot. Down to fourteen fathoms and hang round windie sixty. Correct, no?" Dimitri finished smugly, heading over to the edge of the ship's deck where the hole for his dive into the deep awaited him.

"That's it?"

"That is it, bro."

"Will that be before or after you freeze to death?"

"'Scuse?" Dimitri asked, the further mention of his untimely demise bringing his footsteps to a complete halt. He turned to see that Bentley had wheeled over to him.

"See, that's the stuff you gotta think about on the job. If we lose our frogman in a place like this, we're screwed. Here take this." Bentley held out a small yellow pill to Dimitri.

Dimitri took it and examined it closely, "So it'll make me a Popeye the sailor man, bro?"

"No, it'll make you a Dimitri the iguana, just better suited for this job."

"Eh?"

"Swallow it and you'll find out."

"…"

"Well, what's the problem?"

"…No water."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, just take the pill!"

"This doesn't show much of a no go thing for the whole anti drug sing."

"TAKE IT!"

Content that he'd thoroughly rattled Bentley's cage, Dimitri popped the capsule into his mouth and swallowed. Almost instantaneously, Dimitri felt his body temperature begin to rise to a comfortable 75 degrees. He hadn't felt this contented since his holiday to Hawaii, a few scant weeks before this entire mess started. "Hey," Dimitri said, taking in a big breath of fresh air, "Not shabby bro, not shabby at all."

"The pill induces a high fever. At any other temperature, you'd be bed ridden, burning up and subject to severe hallucinations. But as things are, it'll be like taking a dip in a pool."

"Why only one for me and none for racooper?"

"Well, there was twelve percent chance that you'd end up with excruciating stomach pains, thus resulting in six hours of vomiting and dry heaving."

"Ohhh, okay that makes sense…wait, NO IT DOESN'T!"

"Now, now Dimitri," Bentley said reassuringly, placing his hand on the small of the enraged iguana's back pushing him toward the edge, "Now's not the time to argue about 'who nearly poisoned who'. Now's a time for ACTION! And everyone knows that chicks dig action."

"Really?" Dimitri asked, his anger quelled at this tidbit of information on the opposite sex.

"Oh yeah! You kidding? Let's look at this statistically. Sly been through such adventures for years, and he's practically carrying the keys to Inspector Fox's penthouse. I've been a fully fledged field man for over two years and I have a girlfriend. And Murray…well Murray's got…hmm…what **does** Murray have?...Oh! I got it. Murray's got a wonderful personality, **and** a really, really cool van!"

"Yes! Of course! Why didn't I spec it and check it before?"

"You were probably being too smooth to notice."

"Seriously?"

"If anyone could, it would certainly be you."

"Yes! Of course! Why didn't I spec it and check it before?"

"You already said that."

"Oh, scuse. Enough idle widle chitcham! Dimitri's gotta do what Dimitri does best?"

"Forge famous works of art whilst referring to yourself in the third person?"

"No! Dive baby. DIVE!" Filled with a sudden inexplicable burst of confidence, soundly guided by a keen sense of awesomeness, he pulled his mask over his face rushed to the edge, began to pull a tuck-pike-straight dive, failed miserably, and from twelve feet up, belly flopped into the hole the Panda King had blasted for him.

After several moments of unspeakable pain (let's face it folks, he belly flopped from twelve feet up, it hurt like hell) Dimitri was able to right himself underwater. He fought past the bubbles and the disorientation in just enough time to see a horrible, **horrible** metallic monster rushing towards him. It was big, it was mean, it had glowing white eyes, made a frightening whir of a noise, and he was fairly certain that he could detect the smell of egg mayonnaise coming from it. In a panic, he began to fire wildly with his Electric Harpoon wildly, completely missing every shot.

After half a minute or so of rapid fire, Dimitri decided to open his eyes, partly because he wasn't hitting anything, but mostly because his trigger finger was tired. He saw that he nearly shot the mini sub carrying all the equipment he was supposed to be **protecting**. Dimitri thought about what if he had hit the sub and almost laughed at the idea of the look on Bentley's face when he showed up with a Swiss cheesed sub and the equipment flooded with freezing Antarctic backwash. However, all hilarity flushed from the idea when the scene fully played out in it's entirety to show the scene ending with his legs broken by the merciless treads of the turtle's wheelchair and his gob stuffed to the brim with explosives. At that crucial moment, Dimitri's cast his eyes upon the mini sub and thought, 'I think, I should be…careful-ish.'

The sub was essentially just an enclosed bathtub with two lights in front and two propellers in the back. Penelope whipped it up during their search in the weeks preceding the invitation to the party in London, for just such an occasion.

Dimitri set off, not having to worry about the sub's whereabouts, Penelope had it programmed to follow the signal of his binoc-u-com. However, after several urgent sounding pings he turned to find one of those nifty purple markers, pointing in the exact opposite direction he was heading. So, clearing up the near mix up, Dimitri turned 'round and smartly headed in the right direction.

Sometime later, Dimitri suddenly came to the full force of the horror that this mission held. To his eternal torment, Dimitri came to realize the horrible truth, the inescapable fact that despite everything he was…bored. So god awfully and miserably bored. To be honest, this mission wasn't as exciting as he'd imagined and it really didn't deserve the zeal with which he first approached it. Sure, he was swimming under the ice in Antarctica, and while that sounds really cool on paper, in truth after a while it loses it's shine very easily.

He did try to liven things up. Unfortunately Clue got canceled since apparently it needed to be played on land, with other people. After the paper dissolved in his hands he resorted to blaming it all on the pen, it had it out for him since day one. After that he tried to whistle, a task impossible to do with a breathing apparatus, and even more so when the apparatus is removed from your mouth in an oxygen free environment.

Then he saw it. Seeing it on Bentley's monitor was fine, but to see it in person, especially from the outside, well it made the artist inside sing. Dimitri had finally made it to the laboratory, and the experience was like meeting a celebrity in real life. But not the sort of meeting where it turns out they're jerks, or they just don't meet your expectations, or it just turns out that they're really, really ugly without studio make-up. No, the other kind of meeting where they're really cool. You know the meeting everyone's envisioned at least three or four times over, where whatever famous person goes, "Oh, you're a fan? Well here let me give you a hug. Oh and here's twenty bucks, just because you're you," then they smile really big, wink, and give you a double thumbs up or that one really cool thing where they make their hands like guns and do that "chic-chic" noise.

Yeah…just let that scene play out in your head, heck you've got time, do it twice…It's pretty sweet isn't it? Well that's exactly how this meeting felt, excluding the hug, the money, and the "chic-chic", because, well, buildings can't do that, ya big silly (wow, that last bit sounded waaay gayer than I intended).

It did however talk to him, in a raspy voice that he felt he heard not too long ago, "Hey man, this is like…an automated message broadcast over all frequencies so you can, y'know, hear it. Anyways dude, your, like, sub or scuba suit or whatever is, like, heading towards my lab, and that's, like, really not cool, especially since I'm **retired**. So now I gonna totally destroy you, 'kay? Keep on truckin' man."

It was at this point Dimitri saw several hatches open, dispensing several sharks. Luckily, the sharks were just violent, not stupid. So after feeling how cold the water outside was, they decided that defending their base wasn't as important as it had been back in '78. At this, Dimitri was unsoundly relieved, thinking his troubles were over, because let's face it, who really wants to fight **a **shark, much less a squadron of highly trained ones.

Unfortunately, the universe is sometimes like that extremely smart, but very snotty fat kid you knew from elementary school (in some cases, fatness may vary). They are alike in the aspect that like that little kid, the universe also enjoys slurpees and balloons (not proven…yet). But the most important comparison comes from the fact that both thoroughly enjoy proving someone wrong, thinking they're so much smarter than you, even though when you're five years old words are really hard for you to spell, and who the hell had the bright idea to put two "p"s in the word "apple" anyway?

It's not like I really wanted to win that stupid spelling bee anyway. I got all the letters in it, so I feel that I shouldn't have lost just because one stupid freakin' letter wasn't doubled. Apparently things like manners and common courtesy don't matter if know how to spell APPLE! BUT IT'S FINE! I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO WIN THAT STUPID LITTLE PLASTIC MEDAL ANYWAY! IT WORKED OUT FOR EVERYONE, SEE!?! IT'S FUNNY ISN'T IT!?! AH HA, HA, HA, HA, ha, ha, ha, *weak laughter turning into sobbing*.

But I digress.

It was at that moment universe took it upon itself to act like a total jerkwad and **allow** a certain security signal to be relayed to the android cleanup crew working on the outside of the lab. The signal of course indicating that the sharks had indeed failed in their assignment of killing whatever trespasser came their way, thus leaving the girls as clean-up hitters.

Dimitri saw them coming from a mile away. Now let it be known, when it comes to the opposite sex Dimitri very rarely plays with a full deck if you catch my drift. With this in mind, it was no surprise that Dimitri did not attack whilst he had the advantage of range. His first thought when he saw six lovely ladies heading his way was, 'Ooh, cheekadees,' not, 'Oh no, the robots,' or even 'How can they breathe underwater?'.

However, slowly yet surely, reason did begin to prevail. As he stared at the beauties, his thoughts tried to focus on important details. It was driving him crazy, he was **sure** there was something important he had to remember about these girls. Their favorite color maybe? No, that wasn't it. Their bra size perhaps? No, although important to remember, that didn't quite seem the factor in question here.

_**PTEEEW!**_

A red beam of light shot from the eyes of one of girls, shooting just past Dimitri's arm. Instantly the water was brought to a boil, and Dimitri clutched his scalded arm and clenched his eyes shut in pain. It was about this time that he finally remembered that these chicks were a pack of evil killer robots.

His six daisy-duked destroyers were within twenty feet of him and closing the distance fast. Dimitri fought past his pain and fired a steady stream of shock blasts at them. One of the girls, a platinum blonde, saw this and took initiative and fired intercepting lasers that took out the blasts. She'd nailed all except one, it moved harmlessly into the center of the girls. The one firing the lasers targeted the last blast, fired, and not only to out the blast but one of her sisters as well. At this, Dimitri was given a glimmer of hope.

Trying to work out some sort of strategy, another chick fired her eye lasers at him, this time a red head. Dimitri was prepared this time and dodged the blast with ease, although he practically had a heart attack when he saw that the beam hit the sub. In a panic, he rushed to the compact vessel, and after a thorough inspection, he was satisfied to find that it no air bubbles were coming from it and that the only damage done was a busted light. It was at that moment that he noticed several command buttons on it, indicating various directions. After hitting several of the buttons, Dimitri hit an "Enter" button, setting the sub off on it's course to cruise along the seabed, just as the water was brought to a boil near Dimitri's tail.

The pain brought him back to his current situation. He turned to face his five foes and was dismayed to see that two had cut away from the group to head for the sub. He'd have to deal with the three on comers quickly.

He swam down and to the left of the three girls firing several rounds at them. The ladies blasted the volleys without fail. Unfortunately for them, in their blasting, they failed to distinguish friend from landscape, causing them to fry yet another of their sisters, this time a lovely longhaired chestnut with round sunglasses spattered with flower designs.

The remaining two finally saw his strategy and decided to end this with physical violence. What Dimitri saw that day, he would never forget, it'd give him nightmares. The girls snapped their feet together, now abandoning conventional swimming, they pointed their bodies straight at Dimitri. Then, the lower half of their bodies actually started to **rotate**. Now, I'm not talking like rotated like spinning on the dance floor, no, from the waist down, their bodies spun 360 degrees over and over at a speed of twenty knots an hour, turning their legs into propellers. They were on him in seconds.

Dimitri saw this and tried to swim to the left, but then on was there in an instant and blocked him. He tried to go to the left, but the other followed suit. He tried swimming up, but the girls got tired of playing defense and switched to offense by the left chick-bot taking a firm hold of his throat with the full intention of ripping it out. Well, seeing how such a thing could be slightly counterproductive to his mission, Dimitri sagely decided to shove the barrel of his gun into the broad's gob. Almost as if it were a **natural** instinct, her eyes began to get that extra special glow to them.

Whilst his possible murderess was distracted charging her deadly blast, Dimitri was able to wrest her hand from his throat. By some miracle or stroke of purest, most refined luck, Dimitri Lousteau, lounge lizard extraordinaire, was actually capable of having the forethought of ducking, mere **milliseconds **before he had his head blown off. With the change of target however, instead of flash frying our heroic, reptilian rascal, all that was accomplished was nothing more than some additional babe on babe action, ending with one exploding.

Running with the momentum of the situation, Dimitri turned a knob on the side of his harpoon gun, cranking the power of each blast up to top end. Replacing the weapon to where it was most recently holstered and pulled the trigger, ramming a several volts of electricity down her throat. Now, normally what would happen is that Dimitri's target clamp down from the sudden jolt, possibly shredding their tongue and breaking teeth in the process, on top of feeling cold from the fried nerve ending. At this juncture, the results vary from victim to victim, but the bottom line is, they all go down breathing.

However, since Dimitri's gun was pumping out enough juice to run circles around two car batteries, and the target was not only metal, but underwater too, her head started to spin. And I don't mean "spin" in the figurative sense where it just means they're really, really mad. Dimitri had to yank his hand away because several sections of the chick's body had begun to spin faster than Elvis did in his grave when they started to sell tickets to his grave. For a moment, Mr. Lousteau sat in the water, spellbound by malfunctioning woman, when it dawned on him that he should probably move away. Because whenever he saw a machine malfunction as bad as this, well, nine times out of ten, they-

**PLOOSH!**

Dimitri was knocked several feet backwards by the explosion. Yes indeedy, there's nothing that says "adventure" quite like a killer chick-bot suddenly going "KA-BOOM".

Dimitri then turned to look for the sub and found it many feet below resting quietly on the seabed. It would have looked genuinely peaceful if it weren't for the two remaining babes trying to crack it open with a rock, that just sorta threw out some of the scene's quiet serenity.

Dimitri's two enemies were easily half a mile below him, but that wasn't a problem. By now, Dimitri had become such an efficient sharpshooter that he could hit targets easily three times that distance. The problem came from the shape his harpoon gun was in. In the explosion, since it was still clamped in the chick's teeth when she blew, the gun was damaged severely. Now, it was in a rather pitiful shape, there were scratches all over it and a rather nasty crack ran the length of the barrel. Dimitri would have given it two, maybe three, shots before it went "ka-blooey", and that was at normal power. **Now**, it was cranked up on high end, with no way of turning it down since the knob was blown clean off. True, he could have used his spare gun, **if** it was resting gently next to a pack of Sly's calling cards, atop Bentley's hacking modem, all of which sat **inside **the sub. Essentially, all Dimitri had to work with was a single shot grenade strapped to his hand.

Dimitri stopped and started to think. 'What if I don't let go in time? I will lose **sooooo** many ladies with a crook hook hand. How can I take out two bots with one shot? Hope they didn't crack the sub, I am le done for if they do. I wonder what's for lunch?' Indeed, all very good questions, but none could be answered at that moment in time. Then Dimitri thought, 'ARRRGH! This is a no go, I'll zap one for fun and let ze chips fall where they may. CARPE DIEM!!!"

Dimitri took aim and fired. It was at that moment the universe acted like that fat kid's way cooler older brother, who smacks the fat kid upside the head when he makes fun of you, and buys you both ice-cream afterwards. After Dimitri pulled the trigger, it started a chain reaction, kinda like dominoes being knocked over.

By some miracle, after he fired, there was just enough time to drop the gun before it took his hand, but his fortune didn't stop there. Once the blast hit one of the two offending brunettes, she started to spin and malfunction, one of the systems affected was her laser combat programming. She flash fried her partner seconds before going up in smoke herself. Game, set, and match; Dimitri 6-0.

Minutes later Dimitri finally made it to his destination. He waited by the window for almost an hour when he notice that the number above the window was forty-eight. Fixing his mistake, he made his way to window number sixty and tapped on the glass, blaming his mistake on the fact that the two numbers looked similar.

Dimitri stared at the window, worried, until the curtain covering it was pulled away, revealing a grinning Murray who beamed at him from behind the glass. The hippo stepped away from the window, allowing Dimitri to see Bentley and the Guru in the small portion of the room he could see. Seconds later, Dimitri saw a small portion of the wall glow red until a bright light shone through as someone on the other side continued to cut. He was amazed that no water poured through, until he saw that the Guru was doing that weird psychic bit where his eyes became all smokey. In minutes, the section of wall was cut away and pulled inward.

It was no sweat for Murray and The Panda King to heft the heavy section and lean it against another section before pulling the sub into the room. It felt weird for Dimitri when he entered the room, it was the first time he exited the water by swimming forward instead of up. He sloshed his way to a nearby chair and sat down, he looked at the room and after seeing the amount of dust on the coffee machine, he had to admit that Sly was right, this room had indeed been abandoned.

Murray and Panda King replaced the wall, as Penelope set to the task of welding it back in place. Bentley opened the sub and threw Dimitri a towel. As he inspected the equipment for any possible water damage, he asked the iguana, "So, did anything exciting happen?"

Dimitri thought about it, and after going over his boredom, the attack of the sharks and his mix up of rooms in his head, he replied, "Nozing bro, nozing at all."

* * *

**The Mighty Quinn**

* * *

Several minutes later, Sly finally entered the room. He didn't answer the various welcomes from the group, but simply looked for one of the nearest chairs, slumped down in it, and pulled his cap over his eyes.

At first no one was brave enough, but eventually Bentley mustered up the courage to lift the hat. Underneath he was greeted with the enraged glare of the raccoon's red rimmed eyes, twenty hours of dodging security cameras and evil killer robots will do that to ya.

"Uhh, Bentley?" Murray said tentatively, "I don't think Sly's in good shape for this job."

"Nonsense," the turtle replied, "He's in perfect-"

Bentley's statement was cut short by an action he hadn't seen since he was a child. Sly had lifted his hand and outstretched all his fingers, and after a few seconds, folded his thumb inward. It took Bentley a moment to recognize the significance of the action until a brief image of a room littered with the demolished contents of comic books entered his mind. Then he finally remembered that this was the dreaded "Countdown".

In the ever popular Happy Camper Orphanage, there is a tradition, going back farther than anyone can remember, probably dating back to orphanage's roots. It was not an official tradition, and despite the actions of the staff, it is a tradition that still goes on, even to this day. The Countdown was a common courtesy amongst unlucky brothers and sisters, as the children so termed themselves, developed to handle disputes when one child had wronged the other. The wronged party would need at least one neutral witness before giving a standard five fingered and silent count from five to zero.

Five seconds, that's all you had. Five seconds to either convince the accuser to opt for mercy or at least try to run and hide before they do something **horrible**. Punishments ranged from simple beatdowns to being shoved inside one of the rooms of the opposite gender, in nothing but your tightie whiteys. As did the crimes; showing the staff an older kid's cache of nudie mags, borrowing another girl's dolly and getting it ripped or filthy, or in Bentley's case, ripping up Murray's comic books in order to make hats to keep the government from spying on you, but not wanting to use tinfoil because it's for cooking (he was six folks, no one's really smart at that age).

It had been years since Bentley had seen Sly use the Countdown. The last time he saw it used was when an older kid took one of the younger girls' teddy bear and she asked for Sly and Murray's help in the matter. The episode didn't end well for the bully, Bentley was sure he'd never look at a dryer the same way ever again. 'But that was then, and this is now,' Bentley thought, certain that in their time from the orphanage, Sly was now far more imaginative than throwing someone in a "super spin".

Seeing that he only had two seconds left, Bentley slowly lowered the cap to cover Sly's eyes once more and backed away quietly. It was a wise decision. Sly closed his hand, let his cane fall to the floor and folded his arms. He could be a real grouch when he didn't get much sleep.

"I don't think Sly's going to be a big help," Murray put forward sagely.

"As do I," Bentley agreed, "Nevertheless, this job is crucial and cannot be postponed. Murray, you and I will have to persevere and complete the task ourselves."

"OH YEAH!" Murray accidentally exclaimed, then casting a cautious gaze at the slumbering Sly, lowered his tone, "Oh Yeah, a Murray Bentley team-up! Hippies beware! This is going to be legendary!"

"Indeed it should prove to be somewhat exciting."

Minutes later, Bentley and Murray had found themselves at what essentially amounted to the equivalent of a massive wall outlet. "So what's so important about this thing, does it hook up to a giant 8-track player or something?"

"Not quite," Bentley said, briefly taking a moment to readjust his glasses, "This is a power station for the girl-bot's eye lasers."

"Wait we're calling them girl-bots? I thought the general vote was for chick-droids."

"Well I thought girl-bots was nicer."

"Yeah, but it lost the vote to chick-droids."

"Well, they tied, and Sly wasn't there to break it."

"So now that Sly showed up you automatically get his vote?"

"Well, no. But-"

"But nothing, you lost, accept it."

"Fine! This is a power station for the chick-droid's eye lasers. There, happy?

"Yes, yes I am."

"Ugh! Anyways, this is just one of the hundreds that are set throughout the lab."

"Well, if there are hundreds, what are standing here jawing on for? Less talkie, more smashie."

"Out of the question. Dr. Burger is a genius who's talents are far beyond my own." The idea nearly made Murray's head explode. Someone who's smarter than Bentley? He'd long placed such a person in the nonexistent category along with the Toothfairy, and tall midgets.

"Murray?" Bentley asked, "Murray? MURRAY!"

"Huh, what?" Murray asked, waking up from his wonderings as to why Dr. Burger's head wasn't the size of seven engine blocks.

"I was saying that it'd be impossible to destroy every single power station. Even with the entire gang going at it, we'd eventually get separated and picked off one by one. What we need to do is simply lock the gir, I mean, chick-droids out from accessing the power."

"How? I think we got some duct tape back at the room, but I don't think that's going to cut it against these guys, er, girls. I mean, they're just as strong as me or Panda King in the first place, and I don't think we have enough tape to begin with."

"Not that way, look." Bentley pointed a little to the left of the socket where a number pad with a display panel was found, "The entire power grid is locked down. I need to hack the system, but can't get in without an access code. I was going to have Sly wait here for a chick-droid to access it and snap a picture of the code. Now it looks like it's my job."

"So why am I here?"

"…You **do** know there are deadly, killer robots around here, right? I'm not going to wander about on my own."

"Alright, how long do we have to wait here?"

"Anywhere between one to twelve hours, inside that broom closet." Bentley said jabbing his thumb at a beaded door adjacent from the parallel to the outlet.

Murray heard the last sentence, thought about it, and while he understood the plan, he didn't like it. For Murray, unless it ended in him going to either a car show, a Petey Pirate and The Pukes concert, or a comic book convention, it just wasn't worth waiting that long in a cramped closet. So the logical solution instantly came to mind. He turned to the outlet and smashed it with his fist, sending sparks flying everywhere.

"MURRAY! WHAT THE HECK?!"

"The Murray waits for no man, he commands his enemies to come to him."

"What?" the confused turtle asked, failing to see Murray's logic.

"It's easy," Murray said, "I don't care how smart the he is, I doubt this Burger guy is going to deal with a busted outlet himself, you get henchmen to do the things like that."

"Yes, I think I see what you're saying. That's pretty resourceful, I can't believe I didn't think of it on my own."

Then, almost as if on cue, Bentley and Murray heard someone walking towards their position. The two ran to the broom closet just seconds before a chick-droid cat rounded the corner. She had curly black hair and wore a green one piece dress of tie-dyed denim, a utility belt with all sorts of tools and for reasons beyond even **her** understanding, she wore mime make-up.

She walked towards the outlet to assess the damage. As she studied the problem, she began to talk to herself, "Looks like it was punched…the fist print's too large to be one of us, I'll have to call it in."

"We'll be discovered," Bentley hissed, unsure of what to do as the automaton repair girl reached for her walkie-talkie.

That was all Murray needed to hear. Taking the lead of the mission, Murray charged forward and snatched the walkie-talkie from the girl's unsuspecting hand, smashing it to pieces on the chrome wall. Murray saw stars as the girl spun around at an uncanny speed and delivered a rather vicious elbow to the side of his head. As soon as his head started to clear, Murray turned to face his opponent, and was fortunate enough to turn around just in the nick of time to see the cat's eyes get that **extra** special glow about them. Murray ducked down just milliseconds before his face became a campfire, the laser slightly singeing the top of his cowl.

Murray stayed low and rushed forward, slamming his fist into the girl's stomach, feeling pain as flesh met hard metal frame. She staggered a step backwards as even a machine of her caliber was damaged by the blow. Trying to build some momentum in the fight, Murray stepped forward, and delivered a powerful right hook. Unfortunately, she saw it coming and caught Murray's fist in her hands. Using his attack against him, she held his fist firmly and pulled him into head butt, a sickening crunch being made as she broke his nose.

This time it was Murray's turn to take a step back. Building upon the success of the attack, she moved forward and delivered a flurry of machinegun esqe blows. Fighting past the pain, Murray blocked his head and took each and every blow, studying her pattern of attack. In a move that surprised her, and possibly surprising Murray a little too, he shot out both his hands at once and grabbed a hold of both her arms, stopping her dead in her tracks. Not wasting his good fortune, Murray pulled upwards and flung the bodacious bot over his head.

Murray turned around, now seeing his chance to end the fight. Whilst the chick-droid was still on her back, Murray leapt into the air and, whilst airborne, pulled his feet back and pointed his knees down. The Murray was now four hundred or so pound spike. He landed on the girl's midsection and actually **crushed** her in half, covering himself, mostly his legs, in motor oil.

"Dat's right!" Murray shouted, standing over his opponent, his face a fountain of blood, impeding his speech, "Da Murdy sdands dryumpant!" As bloodied up as Murray was, he couldn't help but smile at his success. His grin disappeared however, once he saw Bentley wheel his way over to his position.

"Soddy I-" Murray started, his apology cut short by Bentley shoving a handkerchief towards his face.

"…Your nose," Bentley answered, seeing the confused look on the hippo's face.

"Doh righd," Murray said. He grabbed his nose and another crunch was heard as he reset his snout. "You're right Bentley," the hippo continued, his impediment gone, "I can breathe much better now." Completely ignoring the handkerchief, he continued his apology, "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have ki-, er…broken her?"

"Actually this more than perfect," Bentley said, putting the handkerchief away and replacing it with a screwdriver. He pressed a button that deployed his Fishing Pole gadget, the magnet snapping briskly onto the girl's head. He reeled the machine and began to inspect the head, explaining all the while, "I remember one of the girl's Sly snuck by when he first got in here saying something about seeing "The Burger" when one of them lost a screw."

"Yeah, so, big deal."

"It is a big deal, since it means that there must be an easy access route to for software and hardware updates and repairs."

"What makes you think these girls have 'em?"

"Because it's exactly what I'd build, AH! Here we are." Bentley pulled back some of the girl's hair to reveal, to the unobservant, what would be a simple mole. Luckily, Bentley had never been the unobservant type. Bentley gently pinched the mole and removed it from the girl's forged flesh, revealing the head of a screw underneath. Using, the screwdriver, Bentley unscrewed the small piece of metal. After further inspection of the girl's scalp, Bentley found three more identical moles, performing the same operation unto them. Once that was done, Bentley removed a rectangular panel of hair, flesh and plastic to reveal the metal underneath.

To Bentley's disappointment, the maintenance panel wasn't that much to ooh and awe about, it contained a phone socket, a small green button, several more screws that'd need ministrations from his hex head driver, which was back in the room, and a small bit of graffiti markered on that read 'Burger wuz here'. Bentley ignored graffiti and focused on the button, noticing the word 'detach' below it. On impulse, forced by his natural curiosity, he pressed the button and a hiss was heard as the head detached itself from the neck, letting the torso, which had slightly stifled Bentley's work, fall to the floor.

Now fully immersed in his work, and after pressing a button to deploy his laptop, Bentley reached into one of the chairs many compartments and retrieved a cable which he used to connect the head's socket to his computer. From there it was type this, double click that, decode, decode, decode. Boring junk to Murray, that was until, "Woo! Man do I feel light-headed! Or should I say light-bodied? *snort**giggle*"

The bubbly voice nearly made Murray jump out of clear out of his skin. He swiveled around several times on the spot, looking for the culprit, until it called out again, "Down here handsome." Murray looked down to see the cat's head staring right up at him from Bentley's knee. The realization was really creepy, yet totally…

"OH MAN IS THAT AWESOME!" Murray shouted, voicing his thought.

"You should see what I can do with hands," the head said jokingly.

"I disengaged her attack mode, so she reverted to her standard AI setting," Bentley, explained, not looking away from the screen.

"That is so **cool**," Murray said, completely amazed by the head, "Say 'I'm just trying to get ahead'."

"I'm just trying to get ahead," the girl replied.

"HA, HA, HA! That was waaay funnier than I imagined. Okay, now say 'I just gotta use my head'."

"No," Bentley interrupted, "I got a better question. How do we hack into the laser charging grid?"

At this, the girl seemed to take offense, her face becoming taut with disapproval, "Hey, you two are really groovy and all, but Dr. Burger, like, totally trusted me not to tell people stuff like that, so you guys can just, I don't know, jump off something, like…really, really tall."

"Like a building?" Murray offered sincerely.

"Yeah, like a tall building."

"Oh really?" Bentley said patronizingly, typing all the while.

Suddenly, the girl's face became flushed with confusion and then became beaming, as if she just noticed Murray and Bentley were there, "Oh hey, my name's Suzy Q. and my favorite color is turquoise blue. Listen guys, you haven't seen my body lying around have you?"

"Don't worry about it," Bentley said, finally looking Suzy in the eye, wheeling towards the busted outlet "Question, how we hack into the laser charging grid?"

"Oh that? That's easy, you just gotta remove the code input panel and hook the lines underneath to a computer. But it's, like, really, really hard without the codes. I used to know 'em, but my memory's really fuzzy right now."

"Don't worry, I'm a pretty smart guy."

"Oh really? Well aren't **you** awesome? But you'll still need a torx screwdriver to even get the panel off."

**BOOM!**

"Or you could that," Suzy admitted, staring at the busted panel which had clearly just received the business end of one of Bentley's bombs.

Bentley strained just a little bit to reach some of the exposed wires, but was able to manage and spliced them with some wires of his own which he plugged into his computer. Murray was at their side as Bentley hacked the system, both entirely caught up in a world of zeroes and ones, bor-**ring**! To Murray, and anyone I think, a talking head is only entertaining when it's **talking**, and you can watch Bentley work his 'tank-mode' hacking code only so many times before it gets duller than a Fellsmere rodeo (Fun Fact!: Fellsmere's a small town in Florida, where practically everyone speaks Spanish, and those that don't are, nine times out of ten, white trash who say, "yer," instead of, "your" and, "dat," instead of, "that,". I used to live there, yet was not white trash, nor did I speak Spanish. Their rodeos are **shitty.**). Murray craved something cool to grab his attention, starting to come down off the combined highs of the fight and the talking head (seriously, that is cool). He finally found something to grab his attention and felt it important to inform Bentley.

"Hey Bentley."

"Marvelous," Bentley said, still immersed in the in the computer screen.

"Uh…Bentley?"

"To think so elegant a program could be created with such dated technology."

"BENTLEY!"

"Simply, marvelous."

At this Murray simply planted his hand upon the turtle's head, turning it sharply to the left. At the end of the hall was an Eskimo, that much was ascertained. But Bentley was certain that, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it was probably the most evil Eskimo he'd ever seen. He was certainly imposing to say the least, considering he was built as large as, or perhaps larger, than The Panda King. He wore a brown parka and pants that followed suit, both splashed with crusty dried on blood. He also wore black, shiny spike bottomed boots and thick, green rubber mittens, both having received the same touch ups the pants and parka did. But as nasty as the mittens were, the long, black, hooked tipped and metal spear held in his hands was way worse. Bentley couldn't see his face, it was covered by dirty bandages with only two menacing red lenses poking out from under them.

"W-w-who i-is-" Bentley began to stammer.

"Oh him?" Suzy said, answering the unfinished question, "That's just Quinn the Eskimo. He's totally mute and is like this big bodyguard, slash, assassin sorta dude. For a mute, he's pretty cool most of the time, but now he's totally going to try and kill you. He doesn't use the lasers, so don't worry. Hey…I think that's my body over there, but why is it in two? What the heck happened?!"

"What's your call Bentley?" Murray asked gruffly, knowing the answer.

"We're too deep into the mission to quit now," Bentley said, worried vexation apparent in his voice, "try to stall him while I finish encrypting the network."

At this, Murray simply grinned. After cracking his knuckles, he stepped forward, ready for round two. The Quinn didn't take up a defensive stance until Murray was within ten feet of him. He turned the harpoon head towards the hippo, not advancing. This greatly surprised Murray, he wouldn't figure someone so large to be the cautious type.

Taking the time this calm before the storm provided, Murray decided to see how this guy reacted to criticism, he rarely ever got the time to talk trash to his enemies. Bringing his best material to mind, Murray started with a classic warm up, "This town ain't big enough for the two of us." Unfortunately for Murray, the Quinn immediately began his attack after the statement was made. A real pity too, Murray had some real good one liners on the very subject of Eskimos, suffice to say, the Quinn was spared some rather rude comments about whale blubber.

To Murray's surprise, the end of the Quinn's spear, the pointy end, shot out at Murray. The hippo moved his head to avoid the bladed edge, and, with a knee jerk reaction, was about to move back into position when he saw that the spearhead was attached to the rest of it by a cable. Murray stopped his motion just as a whirring sound reminiscent of a fishing reel emanated from the Quinn. However, despite his preventive action, he was not completely exempt from the spear's wrath, as it was reeled in, the blade's hook point caught Murray's ear. He felt the new wound and concluded that it was cut pretty bad, but "pretty bad" just doesn't cut it when you're the number one driver in the American Stock Van Racing Circuit, known for surviving even after you've crashed into two brick walls, a dynamite factory, a moving train **and** a rather dirty hotdog stand, all in the span of three minutes.

The Quinn readied his spear once again and fired. This time the spearhead was headed straight for Murray's heart. He quickly stepped aside and saw that with him not in the way anymore, the spearhead was now headed straight towards Bentley's head. Murray grabbed hold of line and realized the trick but it was too late. The line reeled in once more and although he let go, the hook still left a nasty gash that ran the length of his knuckles.

Murray continued to try at dodging the attacks, the amounting failures steadily working their part, slicing deep into Murray's arms, chest and back. He was relieved to see the Quinn finally make a mistake. The Quinn fired the spearhead towards one of Murray's feet, hoping to cut the achilles tendon on the reel in. But rather than move his foot to the left or right, as the Quinn predicted, Murray lifted his foot and sent it crashing down upon the line, as an ox would a snake. Not taking the golden moment for granted, he bent down and grabbed the line before the Quinn could reel it in, took it in both hand and snapped it.

There was another silent second in which the two opposing forces stopped to examine one another, and despite being slashed practically to ribbons, suffering injury's that'd incapacitate any normal person, he was still raring to go. This time it was Murray who broke the pause. He ran forward, being careful not to trip over the broken body parts on the floor as he ran. The Quinn, dropped the now useless spear to the ground and pointed his left fist at Murray. The fist actually rocketed forward from the Quinn's wrist like an RPG (the explosive, not the game style), with a distinct ticking noise emanated from it.

Murray barely had time to duck before the fist was upon him. He was forced down on all fours into a puddle of Suzy Q's motor oil as the mitt unleashed a powerful concussive explosion that would've easily taken his head. He looked up to see the Quinn pointing the palm of his remaining hand towards Murray. At first the action was confusing to Murray, but then he was able to spy a small hole with a small picture of a campfire just above it. The hippo barely had time to curl into a ball before a nozzle poked out from the hole and shot a stream of fire towards Murray, igniting the oil. In seconds, the flames completely enveloped Murray.

Satisfied at the completion of his task, the Quinn looked towards the second intruder who had ceased his typing and now stared grief stricken at the flames. He was about to leap the flames and snap the turtle's neck when he noticed something moving among the flames. Confused at first, the Quinn was positively flabbergasted when a ball of pink light appeared in the flames. Using the Aboriginal Ball Form, Murray rocketed forward, his mystical energies protecting him from the flames, and hit the Quinn square in the chest, knocking him several steps back.

The Quinn tried to round his flamethrower on Murray again, but the hippo had uncurled and was already on top of him. Before he could react, Murray reached out and crushed The Quinn's hand beneath his own, ripping it from it's own socket and chucked it over his shoulder. Murray then sent a ferocious blow to the Quinn's midsection, leaving quite noticeable dent underneath the parka and the sound of exposed, crackling wires.

With the Quinn standing several feet away from him, Murray wondered if he'd won the fight. Sure, the Quinn's gut was busted, and he was missing both of his hands, but this guy always seemed to have just one more ace hidden somewhere. Suffice to say, Murray wasn't entirely surprised to hear several pops and hisses, as several, now useless, pieces of equipment fell from his parka sleeves. Finally, to top it off, two hatchets shot out to replace the hands with a click heard on most swiss army knives. 'Great,' Murray thought with glee, 'This guys just a fun barrel of snakes.'

The two stood, like two great titans from some ancient battlefield, ready to die rather than surrender. The two were about to rush forward, truly engaging in an actual duel to the death, when suddenly…

"MURRAY!" Bentley shouted, unhooking his equipment from the wall, "IT'S DONE!" He then briskly reached into another chair compartment and reached into his ever impressive arsenal of gadgets, selecting a rather new trinket. It was about the same size as the alarm clock gadget, and was shaped like a sun wearing sunglasses. Bentley chucked the contraption in between the two combatants, filling the hall with a blinding light.

By the time the Quinn's vision cleared, the two interlopers were gone, leaving the repair girl's scattered body and a note tacked, via sleeping dart, to the front of his parka, which he could not remove, that simply read; "I fell down some stairs".

* * *

**Daring Dreams Of Danger  
**

* * *

"I don't like this," Penelope said from behind a blanket that served as a curtain while she changed. The lab was scarce on closets, and there was no way she'd leave the safety of the room to change out in the hall.

"Well I would go myself," Bentley said jokingly, "but I'd have a problem explaining the chair."

"Okay," Penelope said, after applying the last dash of make-up, "How do I look?" She pushed the blanket down the tacked up clothes line and stepped out to the rest of the room. She was met with whistles, claps, and cat calls from Sly and Dimitri, instantly Bentley's glasses were a fogged mess, and even the sternest, graceful, and almost monk like duo of The Guru and Panda King had to turn their heads. It was the first time for most of them when they saw her in anything that wasn't her baggy, patched, greasy overalls and sweater.

Penelope was a knockout, and that's just the start. She wore a green two piece bathing suit that, although tight, still left just the right amount to the imagination. Standing atop two yellow, foam rubber platform flipflops, was her rarely seen and nearly flawless hourglass figure that, if she'd work out just a little bit, would have been flawless. Rather than simply ending there with a more docile look, Penelope made a few more steps further to complete the illusion that she belonged in the lab's surroundings.

Using body paint, she had a large bright and happy daisy painted on her nearly toned and flat stomach. She decided to go with a nice dark emerald green lipstick and nail polish, which would have looked gaudy with any normal ensemble. She did away with her glasses for the moment and was wearing contact lenses, giving everyone a good look at those beautiful brown peepers which were commonly seen only behind thick lenses. She used a dark violet mascara that went nicely with her fur's natural tone, and using just a touch more body paint, she had a rainbow colored peace sign on he left cheek. All that, plus her hair let down and unbraided, gave her a jaw dropping and funky beauty that'd be able to go toe to toe with most professional models.

"You know Mr. Turtle," Penelope said, with a look of mock disgust, inwardly loving all the looks of appreciation she was receiving, "I'm starting to think that you only thought up this mission just to see me in a bathing suit."

It took Bentley a moment to work his sparkling wit into a smart comment, he was still captivated by her beauty. 'Is **this** the same girl I met back in Holland,' he thought momentarily. Finally, he managed to reignite some sense of decency and reason which for the moment had been lost in those awkward feelings of fear he had whenever he had to talk to a pretty girl. "Why I assure you miss, that my intentions are of the most noble and innocent," Bentley finally managed with a devilish grin.

Penelope walked over to the table at the room's center and picked up a mirror and her signature red bandana. She reapplied her bandana to her hair before turning to Bentley and asking, "Does my hair look better with or without the bandana?"

In all honesty, the bandana really did nothing that Bentley could see that would hinder her beauty. So, trying to end the matter as quickly as possible, he quickly answered, "I think it looks nice with the bandana." It was a fair and neutral statement, which easily got him off the hook, unless of course she were to ask…

"Yeah, okay, but which one looks better? And what is that?" The last question being directed towards the severed head with which Murray was conversing profusely.

"That's just Suzy Q, her favorite color's turquoise blue."

"Alright, I'm not really going to delve into the explanation as to why she's here. Bandana or no?"

'Drat,' Bentley thought bitterly. "Without the bandana," he put forward mildly.

At this Penelope removed the bandana and looked at herself in the mirror, then reapplied the bandana, saying, "No, I think I look better with it on."

"Then why did you bother me?"

"What?"

"Why would you seek my advice if you're not going to take it?"

"Huh?" Penelope asked, she was staring at her reflection in the mirror and didn't hear Bentley's last question, "Okay I'm confused, let's just start back at the beginning."

"Okay…Hi I'm Spex_Guy, and listen, we need an RC pilot fo-"

"Oh, shut up!" Penelope declared, laughing.

"I think we should go over what you're going to do."

"Hmm…alright, I guess," Penelope said distractedly, giving herself one last look before setting the mirror down.

"Glad you could join us," Bentley said sardonically, before picking up a clipboard off the table. "Now, for obvious reasons, you won't be traveling with a binoc-u-com, so we won't be able to get pictures that way. The board is out fitted with both a mini mike and camera. Unfortunately, all the earpieces we have with us are far too large and noticeable. Essentially, we'll be able to see you but you won't hear us. Once on the factory floor, you'll be on your own. I'm trusting you with this, because honestly," Bentley said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "You're the only one smart enough to know what to snapshots of."

"Aside from yourself?" Penelope put forward quizzically.

"Well I don't mean to brag," Bentley said, blushing slightly and bringing a tint of red to his atrociously green face.

"Well are you two done making out? I'd like to get this job started." Sly demanded from across the room, leaning against the wall next to the door.

Bentley shot him a downright and well deserved dirty look before turning back to Penelope. "Listen…I…uh…" Bentley began, for the first time in months actually fumbling his words, "It's kinda dangerous out there, and…well…just be-"

Bentley's sentence was cut short as Penelope grabbed him by the front of his shell, and, slightly lifting him from his chair, pulled him into a long passionate kiss that left a large but barely noticeable amount of green lipstick upon his own emerald lips.

"Listen Bentley," Penelope said letting him fall back into his chair, staring deep into his eyes, "have a little faith will ya? Everything's going to be fine." And with that, she grabbed the clipboard and rushed towards the door, stopped midway, with an afterthought rushed to pick up the mirror and removed the bandana, she decided she didn't need it.

Sly waited at the door, and being the eternal gentleman, let Penelope go through first. He was about to go through himself when he was stopped by a cry from Bentley.

"Sly!"

"Yeah pal?"

"…Protect her."

Sly thought of something smart to say but, upon seeing the level of seriousness on Bentley's face, thought better of it and replied with a simple nod before leaving.

Several minutes later, Penelope was standing before the doors that lead to the main factory floor.

"Nervous?" Sly asked, perfectly concealed by the pipes above her.

"Yeah," she replied with a sigh, "But wouldn't you be too?"

"Me? I'd practically be pulling my hair out."

"Really?" She asked confused, this was a guy who jumped through hoops and killer electrodes with nothing but a smile and a song for Pete's sake.

"Yeah, I mean wouldn't you be concerned for your well being if you slapped on some dumb looking flipflops and painted a big, stupid flower on your stomach? OH WAIT! You already did that."

Penelope rolled her eyes, typical Sly. She reasserted her focus on the job at hand, took a deep breath, and stepped through the doors.

The factory floor was bouquet of wonders. Rows and rows and still more rows of tables covered with hundreds fantastic devices fashioned for purposes Penelope could only guess at. This was a true treasure trove of super science, machinery that was at least a decade so or more beyond the current state of the art. She could spend **years** in a place like this. She looked around in a daze until she saw a massive tapestry, hung upon the one of the extremely tall walls, of Clock-la staring down at them all with the doting and loving gaze of a saint. It was then that Penelope forced herself to remember why all these tables had to go.

As she walked, Penelope went into ace detective mode and began to notice several things. First off, she noticed that progress was severely slowed at the half of the floor that was being converted to an assembly area. It had only been four hours since Bentley and Murray went out and disabled the laser charging stations, and already the effects were being felt. One of the babe-bots greatest weapons was also one of their greatest tools, without the ability to weld the assembly machines together and interlock them properly, work was brought to practically a standstill. She smiled inwardly at her man's handiwork as she saw a small procession of chick-droids carrying several forklift loads of welding torches in boxes towards the assembly area. The boxes were covered in dust and still had their shipping dates from 1967 printed on them. It was going to be like building a space shuttle with only a crusader's forge.

The next thing she saw was the inevitable importance of the lava lamp. To run an operation as high tech as this one nonstop would easily take two Hoover Dams running at full capacity. Yet Dr. Burger was able to cultivate the nearly endless supply of thermal energy stored beneath the Earth's crust. That trick alone would have easily won him several Nobel Prizes, but, almost as if to add a cherry on top, he was able to do it in such a way that it completely suited him and his life style choices and those of his generation. She wondered what had happened to take such a brilliant man, with a future so bright that it outshone the sun, and made him, well…like **this**, an evil genius who assisted a woman more malevolent and crazy than he.

As she walked, Penelope also noticed the she was being watched carefully by some of the girl-bots she passed, causing her to notice some key differences between them and her. Each and every one of them seemed to be happy, cheerful, and completely bereft of any and all inner lights of curiosity. On top of that, they wall were tall and leggy, and just the teeniest bit slimmer than her. But the one thing that really drove her up the wall was the fact that each and every one of them seemed to have watermelons strapped under their shirts and by comparison made her own bust seem flatter than an opened, week old soda. 'Great,' she thought bitterly, I'm in high school all over again.'

She finally decided that it was high time to start asking some questions. She went over to a table where three automated babe techs were working on some sort of large ray gun about an eighth of the length of a tank muzzle. A small crowd of even more beauties were stationed at surrounding tables swamped with charts, graphs, monitors, and blueprints all having to do with the ray gun.

She walked towards a lab tech who was staring intently at monitor that showed the ray gun from a top down angle, and said, "Pardon me, but I'm here doing a survey for Dr. Burger. He wants to know how all the projects are coming along and has me gather information on them.

The lab tech in question was a skunk with flowing golden hair, and on top of her lab ensemble, she wore beatnik sunglasses and a black French beret. But the most important thing she wore was a look of confusion with a hint of aggression. It was mirrored on the faces of all the other chick-bots who were in earshot as well, and the air became thick with tension. It was like dropping a pig into a pit of senile old tigers that were unsure if they saw a pig or a hallucination of a pig. Penelope was in danger, any one of these androids, as ditsy as they may seem, could've easily killed her twenty time before she could even hit the ground, and she was in a room full of them.

'That sounded way too smart,' Penelope, seeing her mistake, 'C'mon Penelope, you're a natural blonde, act like it.'

"I'm like, totally **sooo** sorry." Penelope finally said, slightly giggling, mere seconds before the ladies decided to attack. "That sounded, like, **so** uptight. My programming must've gone all screwy, I should probably see The Burger."

Almost instantly, the skunk's face turned from confused aggression to a bright beaming glow with a big smile plastered to the front, erasing the tension as if it was never there. "Ah! D'accord! You 'ad me worrying for a second zere," She replied in a thick French accent.

"Yeah, totally," Penelope said, internally letting out a great sigh of relief, but retching at having to talk in such a demeaning and stupid manner. "Yeah, Doc Burger's got me, like, totally taking down notes on all the stuff here, so like, what's going on man?"

"We are testing a, how do you say?, shrinking ray? Eet will be put into battle and cut ze enemy down to size, no?"  
"Okay guys!" said a mop topped redhead, gathering the crew's attention. She was working on the ray gun personally, "We're ready to go now!"

No one said a word as the redhead herself rushed over to a cleared off table sat upon it, staring down the business end of the ray gun. Two techs worked on the machine, hitting several small buttons on the top before touching the ever popular big red button on the side. The gun fired a green beam that completely enveloped the girl on the table. Almost instantly she began to grow smaller. In seven seconds she was as tall as The Guru, in seven more she wasn't even half of that. The process took roughly twenty seconds, and by the time they turned the ray off she was not much bigger than a teacup.

"Dudes!" She exclaimed in a small and impish voice, "I'm like so totally small!"

"Or are we big?" One frizzy haired squirrel asked philosophically.

Big, small, or somewhere in between, Penelope made sure that the clipboard's camera got all the action before moving on.

And that's how things proceeded for the better part of an hour. Penelope would wander over to the most high priority projects, see the testing, make sure the clipboard saw everything, and then move onto the next high priority table. She saw many wondrous things, and what she saw she didn't like. Flying tanks, flawless cloaking devices, bullets that actually homed in on targets, teleporters, she even saw the anti brevity UFO that picked the gang up in London. There were many more wondrous things indeed that boggled the imagination and left all current trends of science in the dust, all built with the blueprints of Dr. Burger's marvelous mind. But they were all being built to further the ends of the monster tacked up on the tapestry, and it meant that if these things weren't destroyed, they'd be used to hunt her, Bentley and the rest of the gang to the ends of the earth.

She decided pack it in and return to base, that's when everything fell apart. She finished her observations by rounding the base of the lava lamp and spied that aside from the various cables and tubes that provided power to the numerous projects underway, there were also several hatches with the word "Maintenance" on them.

She was a few steps to the door she came from when one of the testing teams halfway across the room from her wasn't as lucky as their peers, and their project exploded. The blast did considerable damage to the projects surrounding it and sent debris flying in all directions. One such piece about the size of a golf ball flew across the room and caught her off guard, striking her across the face and knocking her off balance. Several of the surrounding girls saw her go down and rushed over to see the damage.

In truth, the debris didn't hit her too hard, merely surprised really, and she was back on her feet before her helpers were upon her. The only real damage was a small cut just above her eyebrow. She felt the blood with her fingertips and brought it to her eyes before staring at the small string of girls who came to see if she was okay. The all wore identical expressions of shocked realization which Penelope returned. The cat was out of the bag, she was not one of them.

Penelope rushed through the double doors and slammed them shut behind her she was about to move a nearby potted plant in front of the doors when they flew open and knocked her away several feet where she landed hard on her back. Five had given chase, with even more slowly wandering over from their posts to see what the commotion was about. The eyes of wavy and brown haired girl at the forefront of the five began to glow, this machine was going to use the last bit of it's laser power to kill Penelope. Penelope for her part was still on her back, she wouldn't be able to get up in time, there was no way she could survive this. She was going to die.

It was at that moment that Sly dropped down from the pipes, catching everyone off guard, and threw down a smoke bomb. He used his cane to push down the offending android, who then unleashed her blast upon the ceiling. Sly ran over to Penelope and, by the time the smoke cleared, they were well on their way down the hall.

Dr. Burger chuckled, for the first time in seven hours, as he watched a blue hated raccoon and some cute lookin' mouse chick dart down the halls of the lab, with his favorite creations in hot pursuit, all from the safety and comfort of his yellow submarine. Things had become disastrous as of late. Many of his computers were being taken over by some foreign enemy, making lockdown procedures impossible, and they were systematically wresting away control of the security cameras away from him, he couldn't even playback and see what happened when the raccoon, if it was him, went toe-to-toe with Quinn the Eskimo. And to top it off, something, probably these two intruders, had done something to lock the ladies out of the laser chargers. Only a handful had any juice left, within the hour there'd be none. In truth, he didn't know how long he could even watch the spies squirm before the virus took over all the cameras.

The worst part was that he couldn't even really fight the virus taking over his system, any programs he hobbled together and sent forward were snatched up in the blink of an eye. Twenty years ago, or heck, even today, if someone told him to come up with a doomsday device capable of creating F5 tornadoes at any location on the planet **and** have it under a budget of one hundred smackeroes; he'd have it done by lunch. But tell him to make an email address? He'd spend weeks with a modern computer and only be capable of playing solitaire. The worst part was that he knew the world hadn't become as complicated as some his age would make it seem. Since he was gone, he just grew old. But this didn't stop him from orchestrating the girl's movements to tighten the noose around the two twerps monkeying around his lab.

Bentley fed instructions to Sly via binoc-u-com. He was leading Sly around by the nose, or more accurately the ear, but not in the direction of the room, or any of the choice hiding spots Sly had seen whilst scouting the place out. He was surprised that Penelope kept up so well as they ran. She ran as if she knew where they were going, or at least what was going to happen when they got wherever they were going. When Sly asked where they were going, Bentley simply that he'd left a "present" for their pursuers while he and Murray were out.

The big problem was that machines were organized, many times they had back track or face huge mobs. Now Sly could have played this game for **hours** without breaking a sweat. But going down halls, through doors, up stairs, down stairs and **all** of it whilst running was really starting to get to the horrifically out of shape Penelope. She swore silently as she wheezed behind Sly, that when all this was said and done, she was going to get in shape on Murray's equipment back on the ship.

But despite all the setbacks, obstacles, and the slight hopelessness of the situation, Bentley's voice continued to sound optimistic. His voice came to a crescendo as he finally shouted, "YOU'RE THERE!!!" Sly rounded the corner ahead and did not like what he saw. Four chick bots stood waiting for them, two in construction gear, one in a pink clone of Penelope's bikini, and one in lab tech clothes, **all** trouble. And if that wasn't bad enough, the footfalls of more killer robots were not far behind them.

"Oh," Bentley said pitifully, clearly he did not predict this happening. Doubling back wasn't an option at this point, the sounds of their pursuers growing louder by the second. Sly and Penelope were trapped and everyone knew it.

Sly heard only a low murmuring on the other end of the binoc-u-com, which meant that Bentley was trying to think up a plan in even this dire situation. As much faith Sly had in his lifelong friend, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to pull a miracle from out of his hat this time round. Sly was about to start saying his final goodbyes when Penelope suddenly broke in.

She still had the clipboard and she brought it's concealed mike to her lips, "Bentley, I know we're both thinking the same thing and I want you to do it."

"…Is she sure?" Bentley said on the other end.

Sly, out of the loop, started to convey the message, "Are you-"

"YES I'M SURE!!!"

Sly heard Bentley issue a few inaudible instructions to The Guru and Panda King. Then, almost as if by magic, Sly heard the signature beeping of one of Bentley's remote detonated bombs. The planted bomb exploded to the right and a little ways behind their blockers, letting in hundreds of gallons of ice cold Antarctic. The droids abandoned their posts and tried to seal the hole, not realizing they no longer had lazer vision, the safety of the lab always came first.

"WE HAVE TO MOVE FORWARD!" Penelope shouted above the roar of the water as yellow emergency lights popped out of the walls, Sly saw several pressure doors begin to appear and close horizontally at either end of the corridor.

It had been naught been but less than half a minute since the water had begun to pour in and already Sly and Penelope were waist deep in the nearly frozen liquid. The trip down the corridor was a miserable affair, the coldness of the water stung the two like hundreds of sharp swords, creating a sensation of pain unlike anything they'd ever felt before. Many times one had to grab hold of the other as the strong current nearly knocked the off balance and carried them to parts of the lab unknown. But they moved on, solid, true and steady. Unfortunately that wouldn't be enough, and Sly knew it.

As they neared the end of the corridor, Sly saw that as slowly as the pressure door was closing, they'd never make it in time. Sly might've gotten through scot free, but Penelope would be trapped in that place. So, when they got as close as they could, Sly, in a burst of incredible strength brought on by adrenaline and the extreme pain of the cold water, grabbed Penelope and lifted her above his head.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!" She shouted, her voice nearly lost in the rapids roar.

"BENTLEY TOLD ME TO PROTECT YOU, AND THAT'S JUST WHAT I'M GOING TO DO!!!"

With a burst of elephantine strength, Sly threw Penelope threw the door. She got up and was just in time to see the solemn look on Sly's face just as the pressure door closed, sealing the water and everything else inside, within.

Sly sloshed his way to a corner, leaned against the wall and let out a deep sigh. Despite the extreme cold, he relished in the noise, it's loudness severely decreased thanks to the hall being sealed away from the echoing of the lab.

"Well isn't this a chilling situation?" came Dr. Burger's voice from hidden loudspeakers, "It's no use trying to play silent man, while I've just lost all my cameras, I know for a fact that from the radio drama I just heard that you're still in there. So who do you and the little blonde babe work for? Interpol? CIA? Might as well talk up, pretty soon it'll be KIA."

Sly paused for a moment, and despite the chattering of his teeth, he then used his best Sean Connery accent and said, "…Y-y-you expect me to b-beg G-gold Finger?" Sly relished the comedy, even when his situation was in such dire straits.

Dr. Burger gave a roaring laugh before replying in his best Michael Collins impression, "No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die! I don't know who you are man, but I'm really sorry about this, I really am."

"Sly," Bentley crackled over the binoc-u-com, "I want you to do exactly as I say, do you understand?"

"N-no p-p-problem, wh-what's new?"

"I need you to get on top of the pipes."

'Sure, why not?' he thought, doing his best to ignore the fact that the water had now risen to his chin. Due to his buoyancy in the water, getting to the pipes had not been the difficult task it had been. Once he was on top, he was able to appreciate the warmth of the water or whatever it was that ran through them. "Okay p-pal, h-here I am-m."

"Okay, I want you to wait for the signal, it'll be a loud thump coming in from above. When you hear it, hit the ceiling as hard as you can, got it?"

"S-sure," Sly said dazedly. Hit the ceiling as hard as he could? That was no problem, it'd be a snap.

At this point, hypothermia had really begun to set in. Sly's breathing had become short and shallow, things seemed sorta blurry to him, he felt numb and tired. Especially tired, it became a real battle to keep his eyes open, the water rushing in was acting like white noise, making him all the more drowsy, plus he felt sick to his stomach. Suddenly he felt unnaturally warm, and that was it. He closed his eyes and darkness enveloped him. He soon drifted into a cool sleep, completely forgetting his task and the fact that where he lay would soon be his tomb.

In his sleep, Sly had a dream. He was eight years old again, and his clothes didn't fit him well. He floated in darkness, no, he wasn't in darkness, he was in the dark closet of his old house's den, where his life changed forever. He cracked the door and what he saw surprised him.

They were all there. Bentley, Murray, Penelope, the whole gang. And not only them, but Carmelita as well. They were all there, and what's more was that they weren't fighting. They were all smiling and laughing, sitting in big cushy chairs like his dad's and were all drinking tea like his mom used to make at such social gatherings, all of them gathered near a great roaring fire.

The closet door made a squeak as the wide eyed eight year old opened it wider to get a better look. He gasped as they all looked in his direction, he was up a bit past his bed time and didn't want to get scolded. But rather than get angry, they all beckoned him over, inviting him to some tea, Carmelita offering that the young tyke sit on her lap.

Then the air in the room changed, everyone had a worried expression, they were now standing and they all looked to the door. The Panda King and Dimitri sprang from their seats and rushed to the door, pressing their weight upon it to keep something at bay. Suddenly the door exploded into a million pieces, knocking Sly's two friends back several feet.

Clockwerk was there, his large metal frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. He walked in unopposed, an army of faceless minions filing in after him. After a moment of thick and strained silence, Clockwerk pointed one long and pointy talon at Carmelita and the gang. Clockwerk's minions then swarmed upon them.

They fought valiantly and after a long, but effectively pointless struggle, Sly's friends were brought into submission. Sly tried to rush forward from his closet and help his friends, but something held him firm to the spot. The boy turned back to see that Constable Neyla had her whip wrapped firmly around his waist. Sly begged Neyla to let him go and help his friends. He was crying, confused and scared, but she was impervious to his tears.

Her face pulled into a disgusted and condescending sneer. She bent down and grabbed Sly the arm, her claws digging deep, drawing blood. She then proceeded to strike him several times across the face, until this too drew blood. Then she did the cruelest thing of all; she forced him to watch.

Dimitri was forced to his knees, his expensive and luxurious clothing ripped from his back, as one of the minions went to work with a cat o' nine tails. Each strike elicited screams from the former club owner. Each strike drawing blood. Each strike digging through flesh to bone.

Bentley was forced from his chair to the ground. The minions laughed despite having no mouths and said something about Bentley needing a matching set. They pulled his arms out to either side and stomped upon them, a large crack being heard as his bones snapped. They then proceeded to stomp upon him more. They kept stomping and stomping, until his shell broke.

Murray was forced into a cage with hands bound to the top. The minions came at him from all angles and prodded him with red hot pokers, searing flesh wherever it made contact. The turned his cage to see the fate of a fellow victim.

The Guru was corralled by the minions. The forced him this way and that way, striking him with sharp stones. When they grew tired of this, they forced him into the fire place and forced him back in whenever he tried to escape the flames.

The Panda King was forced onto his back where they plied a black and gooey tar like substance. They placed a handful on his face. The gunk's effect was instantaneous. Where ever it touched, fur fell from his body and the skin bubbled and sizzled. His efforts to remove it only spread it further across his body.

And Penelope and Carmelita? Well…not even I have the stomach to describe the horrors that befell them.

"Poor child," came the only sympathetic voice out of this chaos.

In an instant, it all fell away. Clockwerk, Neyla, his friends, the minions, even the closet itself. It just suddenly became nonexistent in the blink of an eye, and Sly was returned to his proper age, left to float in darkness once more.

"Now come on dere Sly boy, I know y'all better 'n that," came a voice from out of the nothingness. It was a woman's voice, it was deep and rolling with a down south flavor to it. "Now y'all bes' wake up, Sly boy, you drownin'."

Sly woke up and sputtered. The water had risen and it had swashed upon his face. He woke up to find that he had less than two feet of air before the corridor was completely filled up. He heard a steady and desperate banging coming from the ceiling, 'how long had that been going on' he wondered.

He summoned all the strength he could muster, and began to hit the ceiling as hard as he could. Instantly, the banging stopped and part of the ceiling started to glow red and a laser cut through. In less than ten seconds, a hole was made, and Sly was pulled up through it.

He emerged to find the Panda King holding him in one hand and Suzy Q's head in the other. The Guru sat upon The Panda King's shoulder. He reached out one hand and a mystical glow enveloped Sly, repairing some of the damage the cold had done to him.

"Are you alright Sly Cooper?" The Panda King asked solemnly.

At this, Sly smiled, and weakly said, "Are you kidding? I'm ready to go on that ride again."

* * *

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is chapter eight.

I'm really, **really** sorry about how long it took me to update, but I had a whole bunch of college prep stuff slung at me, and it really sorta ate up all my free time. I'll try make sure such a time lapse doesn't happen again.

Anyways, I think it's time to say some stuff to my reviewers, the guys who took time to type some nice things about me and my story.

**Green Phantom Queen:** Why thank you. When I thought up Dr. Burger, I wanted a nuclear sorta scientist, but wanted him to be the exact opposite of a scientist as well. Plus I was listening to a lot of Beatles at the time so it just sorta fit. Actually, one really good way to have hot chocolate is to first of all, **not** buy that stupid powdered crap, buy the Hershey's brand chocolate, with no nuts or any nonsense like that, and boil water. Put the chocolate in your cup and pour the water in, stir the melting chocolate and enjoy. It's also an easy way to make a good mocha without forking out twenty bucks at a Starbucks.

**sotnosen93:** Okay, I think we're both a bit confused here, let's start over. Hi! I'm Grimm Gun, and you are…?

**Mutitoon90:** Why thanks dude, I'll try my best.

**Haroecooper:** Aw geez, I don't even want to know what the whole dream sequence did to you. I'm sorry.

**amishparadise428:** Hey, don't thank me, it's all thanks to me spinach, it gives me the ideas I need (lol, just kidding, it's actually squirrel's blood, but don't tell anybody).

**Starwing Bravo:** Thanks, I do aim to please. But the one thing I could ask for in this story is a guest appearance by Frankenstein, the mightiest of monsters (Dracula and Godzilla can go play in traffic).

Okay folks! It's been a gas, but it's well over three in the morning (for me, I have no idea what time you're reading this at), and I got a test tomorrow. So! I'll see you guys real soon. Read and Review if you got the time, and if I even come close to such a terrible update time as this one, not only yell at me to get to work, but once I finish my work, club me upside my head and chuck me down a mineshaft (not really, because that would hurt a whole, and possibly kill me, not cool.)

I'll be seeing you guys,

Your old pal,

--Grimm.


	10. Machines of Madness P2

Exquisite choice. Now for tonight's wine, the list promotes and features a Tuscany merlot hailed by some of the city's best critics as, "full and flavorful". However, if you'll permit me to be so bold, might I suggest Chapter the Ninth? In which our heroes brave savage sushi, go to the hospital, and play with their toys.

* * *

"Okay guys," Bentley said with his projector pointed at one of the room's walls. **CLICK** The smashed outlet. **CLICK** The crates containing the welding torches. "It's clear that from last night's exploits around the lab that we've already put a big chink into Dr. Burger's operations, so much so that we're able to move into stage two of our operation earlier than anticipated." **CLICK **Babe-bots roaming the halls in groups of four. "However, the easy parts over. I've successfully taken control of Dr. Burger's security camera network, forcing the doctor to send out roaming bikini death squads, so secrecy is of the utmost importance right now." **CLICK **Sly sitting in a chair with a heavy blanket draped around him. "And to pile more good news on, Sly's way too sick for this next string of jobs, don't worry though, with a little bit of cough syrup and **a lot **of the Guru's magic, he'll be in top shape for the big job."** CLICK** The Mighty Quinn, "But before we do anything, we have to take care of this guy first, I don't think I need to remind you guys of how dangerous this joker can be." **CLICK **A robot repair depot, "Due to the damage that it sustained during the fight with Murray, I believe that it will have moved to this repair depot." **CLICK** Dr. Burger posing with his thumbs up in an old snapshot of him in front of his Super Doom Ray at his "secret" moon base. "Currently, the good doctor is patrolling the grounds in search of Penelope while some of his best girls scan the waters outside for Sly's body. He thinks he has the upper hand which is why he hasn't radioed in for assistance." **CLICK** A blue room filled to the brim with telecommunications equipment. "To make sure he doesn't, we're going to make our way to this room. Break-in, smash it, and that's a good play for our team." **CLICK **The lava lamp generator. "Incidentally, I do happen to have a plan for the big job, but I need access to the generator's inner workings if this is to work if this job's to succeed. Okay guys, let's hit it and quit it, I think the air in this place is making me unnaturally hungry."

* * *

**Enter The Eskimo

* * *

**

**The Antarctic, 5:23pm**

The Panda King waited near a, now powerless, power station, waiting for the green light to begin the mission. He stood in meditation of the task he was about to undergo when Bentley crackled in.

"Okay, Panda King, I'm seeing the lowest activity for the sector in which you'll be working, right now's the best time to attack."

The Panda King began to stalk down the halls, his formidable form making no noise as he trod along the multicolored carpeting. "I must confess," he began quietly, taking care not to alert any possible patrols in the area, "Why not have mister Murray do away with this Quinn the Eskimo? His skills in hand-to-hand combat surpass even my own martial artistry."

"There's no question about who's better at knocking heads sure. But I was there in person, and this will be far from a fair, or even hand-to-hand, fight. I just got done watching the footage of the Quinn's journey to the repair depot. There aren't any cameras inside, so I don't know if the Quinn's still in their or not, but I did catch footage of a babe-bot go in with a box marked 'Upgrades', and I've been able to trace it's path from the elevator to the yellow submarine. I don't know what he's got now, but I'm certain it's now a matter of artillery vs. artillery, and you **are** the one with missiles."

At this, The Panda King took offense, "My fireworks are more than just mere missiles, they are-"

"Beautiful flowers that blah, blah, artsy junk, blow stuff up. Just remember that the Quinn's playing with a different deck now."

"Hmm…if what you say is true, then perhaps this will be a true challenge worthy of bearing the name King."

"Right, because spears, bombs and flamethrowers aren't **nearly** dangerous enough."

The conversation ended with a pop, signifying that Bentley cut the line. Which was all the same to the King, according to his mask's binoc-u-com, he'd, arrived at his destination. The Panda King now stood before a set of double doors painted with a large frowny face that was shedding a single tear, probably lamenting the band-aid that sat comfortably above it's left eye.

The Panda King tentatively placed one of his massive hands on a door to this doll hospital of doom (A/N: a corny line, I know, but just wait, it grows on you, like sushi, or a monkey shaped tumor). He took a deep breath and stepped in.

When he entered, the door brought him to a reception area like the one at the entrance yellow sub's elevator. The few variant's being white wallpaper beset with images of the all too familiar red medical cross, but it still had the unattentive secretary behind a desk.

The secretary herself was dressed in very retro but generic nurse clothing. White skirt, shoes and a nurse's hat, the last bearing the red cross. Everything seemed to cater to a rather vanilla taste, that is, everything except her shirt; she didn't wear one. And in lieu of a bra, she had two large red crosses that covered her bare…"assets".

Upon seeing her, even a stolid persona such as the Panda King's would have to agree that he was beginning to feel better, and he didn't even know he was sick. In fact he was feeling so good that he completely forgot about the door behind him. So when it began to close, and all too loud squeak was heard. The nurse began to look up from her New Big Book of Crossword Puzzles (which admittedly wasn't all that "New" since it was published in 1979). However, rather than finding an all too large panda bear, armed to the teeth with an alarming assortment of explosives, she was greeted with the much more comforting view of a closed door. The Panda King was grateful that Dr. Burger didn't program these ladies to be too inquisitive, all the nurse needed to do was look down and the jig would have been up.

Silently, the Panda King crawled over to a second pair of double doors to the left of the desk, and passed through unnoticed. What he found on the other side of the door was rather surprising, the room before him was completely different than the reception area would lead one to believe. Rather than looking anything like a hospital, the Panda King now stood in what amounted to a very high tech motor pool, with a skeleton crew of five girls dressed like their sister behind him, all working on various girls who have come to some accident or another and now require repair. One thing did catch his eye however, one repair area was completely curtained off and blocked from view, it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess what, or who, lay behind the curtain. The fact that the Panda King **was **a rocket scientist was hardly the point.

In seconds, the girl's all turned in the Panda King's direction, looking more confused than a hobo waking up in a bed. The confusion had a sort of domino effect, for when the girl's gawked The Panda King himself became puzzled at their puzzlement, which in turn confused the nurses as to why he would be confused, thus making resulting in even more confounded looking faces which only went to bring the Panda King's bewilderment to new heights, which then, blah, blah, blah, you get the idea. One of the nurses was slightly ahead of the curve of the class and was able to see an end to this veritable cycle of stupid.

Raising her hand, well, not actually **her** hand, but the arm of a chick-droid lab tech she was reattaching it to, who'd lost it in a extremely funny accident, recounted in a wonderful yet completely unrelated story, the nurse asked a question, "Umm, are you, like, Quinn the Eskimo? Y'know, like, without the sealskin 'n' stuff?"

At this, the Panda King's face quickly became flushed with relief, which then became replaced with the stolid look of quiet concentration mixed with anger. "…No…"

Once everything was cleared up, the girl's faces naturally went into attack mode, y'know, that special look they give someone before ripping their head off and dancing in the blood? Yeah, that's the look he received.

To be honest, The Panda King was somewhat distressed about this mission. It wasn't that he'd be heavily outnumbered, as a rule, all girl's undergoing repair were automatically deactivated and sent into recharge mode, so the nurses were so far the King's only opposition, he had **waaay **too many explosive to be hindered too much in his job by just five babe-bots. Being the son of a simple but honest carpenter, The Panda king grew up with these ideas burned into his consciousness; don't get too drunk, especially if there's a camera present, **never** eat the yellow snow, and always,** always**, never hit a lady.

Fortunately for tall, dark, and pyromaniacal, one of the ladies, the ones he was hesitant to hurt despite them being only machines, took it upon herself cast the first stone, or in this case, the first screwdriver. The screwdriver in question imbedded itself deep into the Panda King's shoulder. With a loud roar of pain, the Panda King pulled the screwdriver out which was quickly followed by a swift spurt of blood. At that moment, the Panda King's moral code was replaced with this simple and completely understandable thought; 'You. Must. DIE!!! Because it's the right thing to do.'

Taking a cue from their sister, the other nurses also picked up various tools and proceeded to chuck them with deadly speed and accuracy. Dodging the lethal barrage of three more screwdrivers, a bolt cutter, and a slightly bent blowtorch, the Panda King ducked down and to his left, landing behind a pseudo surgical table. Whilst there, he took a gander at the "medical" chart of the patient on the table, apparently she was in there for an oil malfunction, the chart also went on to say that until this problem was cleared up, she was not to be activated, ever.

The Panda King was about to go with that sage advice when he saw the business end of a buzz saw blade spin **through** the table, come **waaay** to close to his head and sink seven eighths of itself into the adjacent wall. So, going along with his new "no time like the present" attitude, The Panda King peeked at the girl and saw the exposed switch on her neck and flipped it into the "ON" position.

What happened next was quite the spectacle to see. Once the King flipped the switch, the patient did her rendition of "The Exorcist" and soaked the nurses in oil. Seeing this golden opportunity, The Panda King came out from behind his hiding place and launched a rocket to his newly black clad enemies. The ladies were quickly enveloped in fire, the King allowed himself a smug grin. The smile, however, was quickly removed from his face as yet another buzz saw tried to give him close shave. The reason why is simple, in all the movies and TV shows you've ever seen, Robocop, Terminator, Power Rangers, it doesn't matter, when has a robot **ever** been hurt by fire?

Suffice to say, whether or not you have seen a robot get hurt by fire, these chicks weren't the sort that did get hurt by fire. They leapt from the flames and set themselves upon The Panda King. They stood at him on all sides, since the opposition was on fire already, the Panda King needn't concentrate to use his Flame-Fu. As one lady attempted to rip his throat out, the Panda King rolled forward and performed the Fiery Wheel, the ladies being surrounded by a spectacle of beautiful, but painful colors that launched them to all corners of the depot. Ending the fight before it really begun, The Panda King packed his mortar to the brim with rockets and blew the ladies to bits.

Looking at his handiwork, The Panda King was pleased, and saw what Bentley had seen long ago. In the terms of mono-a-mono, there was no question that "The Murray" was unstoppable, but in the market of widespread destruction, and the dispatching of multiple opponents, The Panda King reigned supreme. He saw it simply as Bentley using the right tool for the right job. You don't use a hammer to chop logs.

Finally the flames from the oil fire began to die down, and he saw movement coming from behind the curtain at the back of the depot. He didn't know what to expect, it could've been any number of things to walk out from behind that curtain. But never, never ever, not in a million years would he expect to see **that**.

The Panda King's suspicions were true, Quinn the Eskimo was indeed behind the curtained off area. He had under gone some quite noticeable changes; his clothes were now clean instead of the blood soaked rags that were found the night before. He'd even replaced the dirty bandages on his face with new white ones, and he'd removed the hood of his parka. But here's the reason why; this monster, this **machine**, an assassin once feared the world over, the robotic warrior who equaled the strength of the heroic Super-Dude, without the use of fliptonite, and matched wits against the best secret agents MI-6 had to offer, without a doubt an example of Dr. Burger's finest work. This deadly throwback to a bygone era, but still years beyond the mainstream of robotics, now stood before the Panda King, his parka hood let down to reveal, of all things, a giant, black, and almost perfectly round **afro!**

The Panda King knew this would be a hard mission, he just didn't know it'd be in more ways than one. He stood at the tipping point, it took all of his concentration not to let loose even a chuckle, because the moment he did, there'd be no way to stop laughing at the sheer absurdity of it! Here was an almost legendary assassin, whose miraculous exploits amazed the King even after he'd established himself as an esteemed member of the world renowned Fiendish Five. That same modern day legendary warrior stood before the king wearing one of the most unthreatening hairstyles ever conceived. It was like a volcano erupting with green lava, or a rapid gorilla with sky blue fur and pink polka dots, it simply was not nearly as scary as it had once been.

"It's really good to finally be able to talk," The Quinn said, speaking for the first time since he was built over forty years ago, "Because now I'm finally able to say just how cheesey squares like you look to me."

Returning to a more serious attitude, remembering **who** his opponent was, the Panda King stood his ground and gave his enemy fair warning, "We are all ready to win. Just as we are born, only knowing life. It is defeat that you must learn to prepare for."

"Hmph, I won't even waste my time with it. When it comes, I won't even notice."

"Oh, how so?"

"I'll be too busy looking **good**."

"It is not possible," The King contemptuously replied.

"That's garbage Mr. Hand Man!"

The Panda King decided to end this useless banter and launched a rocket at the Quinn. He stared disbelievingly as an arc of electricity shot out from the Quinn's afro and blew up the rocket before it even got close to him. The Quinn seemed to shake his head as he said, "Man, you come right out of a comicbook."

(A/N: 200 points to whoever finds out what classic kung-fu flick this conversation came from)

The Quinn pointed his left hand at the Panda King and instead of becoming a missile like the night before, it began to rotate. His hand spun faster and faster, and seeing the writing on the wall, The Panda King leapt behind another operating table just milliseconds before being peppered with machinegun fire. Trying to concentrate, and aiming by memory, it was hard for the Panda to launch a barrage of rockets without poking his head out to see where he was aiming.

The seemingly never ending sound of machine gun fire came to an abrupt halt as the Panda King launched four rockets from his mortar. He listened intently as the fireworks screamed towards their target, but his heart sank when he heard the sound of electricity crackle through the air. The King peaked after a final explosion was heard, he nearly whooped with joy when he saw a lovely round and blue burn mark that appeared square in the middle of the Quinn's chest.

Feeling secure in the knowledge that the monster can indeed bleed, The Panda king packed his mortar to brim and unleashed a massive barrage. He watched with pride as the Quinn was envelope in a marvelous multicolored symphony of destruction. He almost started to sing when the smoke cleared and it was revealed that he'd blown the Quinn's left hand clear off.

The Quinn decided to pull an ace out from under his hat, seeing the abrupt change in the tone of this battle…well that and his machine gun hand was blown off. The Panda King stared cautiously as The Quinn raised his right hand and two metal nodes slid out from the sides of his wrists. The King spent so much time watching this peculiar spectacle, that he almost didn't catch the sound of a blade as it sang through the air. He ducked down and felt something slice off several of the hairs on his head as it moved as a blur towards the Quinn.

Feeling the back of his head, finding no blood, The Panda King stood up and looked at the Quinn. The object that'd just tried to behead him on it's way over to the Quinn had stopped moving inches from the Quinn's hand. The Panda king was able to recognize it as one of the saw blades the girl's had thrown at him. Seeing it simply levitate at the Quinn's whim, and noticing a few sparks of electricity skip across the metal nodes, The Panda King began to understand how this trick goes. Now, by no means was he a genius, but the Panda King had dealt with enough so called "super" scientists to recognize an electromagnet when he saw one.

Using the nub of his mangled and blown apart arm, The Quinn began to rotate the saw blade in midair. He spun it around, faster and faster, until it was a spinning blur, then it shot out towards the Panda King. The King tried to run to the left and avoid it, but due to the spin the blade had on it, it curved in the air. He saw this and barely had time to limbo bend as the blade turned it path towards him. Seconds turned to hours as he felt the air along his chest move while the blade flew by not centimeters from his chest.

The Panda barely had time to let out a sigh of relief before he heard the rattling of metal coming from behind his back. He turned around and, seeing what's what, jumped towards the Quinn. A great crash was heard as a surgical table was slammed against a wall in it's failed attempt to crush the Panda King.

Attempting to turn the tables, the Panda King let loose a couple of rockets before rushing to get out of the way of a flying chick-bot. He was dismayed however as the missiles were dispatched by several more arcs of electricity from the Quinn's 'fro. This was impossible, there was no way the Panda King could have enough time to load the amount of rockets need to outdo the overwhelming power of the afro if every object in the room was being used as a weapon to either cut or crush him. This left him with one last trick, but it was a longshot.

The Panda King put on his best poker face and ran towards Quinn the Eskimo. The King did his best not to smirk when he heard an all too familiar rattling come from behind him. He waited until the very last second, because the Quinn wasn't stupid enough to give him a second chance. The King waited until the rattling was at it's loudest before doing a stupendous backflip, allowing the large metal frame of yet another surgical table to pass harmlessly under him. The Quinn was able to stop the table in the air just inches before it smashed him.

Upon landing, the Panda King let loose another handful of rockets and grinned as he saw his work in action. The rockets made their way towards the Quinn, who, or would have, if he had a mouth, smiled smugly as his afro began to dispatch the rockets. However, things didn't go quite as he'd planned, the 'fro was unable to zap all the rockets, most of the electric volleys were blocked by the table, so most of the rockets were able to hit the surgical table, The Panda King's true target.

**Ka-BOOM!!!**

A great explosion was heard as the surgical table was blown to bits. Chunks of thick heavy metal smashed into just about everything in the room, especially Quinn the Eskimo, or more importantly his right hand. Almost instantly after several chunks struck the Quinn's right hand, many of the complex polarities in the magnets became reversed and it's power setting went into overdrive. A great score of sparks were seen coming off the nodes on the Quinn's arm, as all the metal objects in the depot started to be pulled towards him. When the magnet was at the precipice of it's power, he finally was able to shut the damned thing off. However, this small victory was short lived as he had to duck to the side himself to avoid being hit by, well, everything.

As he picked himself up off the ground, the Quinn chanced a glance towards the Panda King, who for his part stood in the middle of the now cleared depot, giving a supremely condescending grin. Not the sort of man, er, robot to take this sort of treatment lying down, but seeing that this could no longer be a long range battle, the Quinn made a bid for a last ditch desperation trick.

Doing his rendition of his sawing in half trick, the Quinn had his midsection split open, allowing two propeller blades to pop out on either side, just above the hips. The propellers began to spin and pulled the Quinn's massive form into the air. The spectacle left the Panda King somewhat stunned for a moment, but as the Quinn swiftly cut through the air, too late, the King tried to load his mortar. When he was above the Panda King, the Quinn shut off his propellers, which shot back into his into his body in superbly fluid motion.

The Panda King rolled to the side as several hundred pounds of machinery came crashing down in misguided attempt to stomp his head in. When got back on his feet, the King saw the Quinn's nub coming at him from a mile away. Dodging the less than perfect left hook with ease, the King countered with a right that had enough force to dent a steel door. He was however, surprised when the Quinn caught the blow with no problem in his remaining hand. All he remembered at that point was hitting a metal plate in the palm of the Quinn's hand before things started to roll in the opposite direction.

_**KZZT!**_

Pain. White burning pain was all the Panda King could recognize as he stood glued to the spot, a thousand volts of electricity arcing through his body. He could've sworn he saw the Quinn smirk under his bandages as the electricity reached it's tipping point, knocking everyone's favorite ball of ballistic fury back several feet, through the air.

When he crashed onto the ground, The Panda King was on the verge of becoming unconscious. He vaguely recognized the smell of burnt panda and smoke as some of his fur had become singed and began to smolder. In the hazy aftermath of his electrocution, it was hard for the Panda King to get his bearings, but once he did, he was able to comprehend quite a frightening sight. Quinn the Eskimo towered above him, his red lenses glowing brightly, his remaining hand upturned and open, allowing the metal plate in his hand to shine in the fluorescent light, ready for another round of electrocutions.

Before being the guest star in a barbeque style death sentence, the Panda King shot out his legs and swept the Quinn off his feet. Then without missing a beat, the King flipped forward onto his feet and fell upon the Quinn, destroying his right eye with some sort of object.

The Quinn shoved the all too heavy panda off him and got to his feet, mad as hell. Getting up and staring the Panda King dead in the eye, he shouted, "THAT'S IT MAN! YOU ARE SO TOTALLY DEAD!"

"Really?" The Panda King asked with a smirk.

It was at this time that Quinn the Eskimo heard the sound of a lit fuse. Feeling the demolished eye socket, his hand came into contact with the end of a rocket, jabbed in too deep into his head to pull out. Realizing this as the end, the Mighty Quinn's last dying words were, "Oh crap."

**BOOM!**

The Quinn blew his top, literally, leaving his body to ragdoll and fall to the floor. The King bowed deeply to the headless body of his adversary, cherishing the intensity of the match, before turning on the audio of his binoc-u-com.

On the other end was a great deal of cheering, with Bentley coming through crystal clear on the other end, laughing like there was no tomorrow. "Oh man!" the turtle exclaimed with amazement, not normally being a connoisseur of physical confrontations, "That was simply amazing! I thought he really had you there a couple times!"

"As did I" The Panda King admitted with a sigh.

"Okay, time to get serious. Your fight really generated a lot of noise, I can see that there are a few patrol squads coming to investigate, so head on back, I'll guide you through the safest route home."

"As you wish."

"Oh, and Panda King?"

"Yes?"

"Since you're there, grab an appropriate body for Suzy Q. It was amusing at first, but Murray will **not **stop with the stupid head jokes, it's driving me crazy."

"Don't you mean, it's driving you out of your **head**," came Murray's distant voice in the background.

"Ugh, shut up! Panda King, for the sake of my sanity, just grab the body and get back to base."

"Like this?" The Panda King asked. He had a dismantled robot body tucked under his arm and was already out of the depot, halfway down the hall. Let it never be said that the he didn't move fast for a big guy.

* * *

**Octopus Garden

* * *

**

The double doors to Dr. Burger's "garden" slid aside, allowing Murray and The Guru to enter.

"Okay guys," Bentley said to them over each one's respective binoc-u-com, "be on your toes, we have no idea what could be coming your way."

"Mura hama ho toto?" The Guru put forward.

"Master's right," Murray agreed, "we're just going to knock out the radio communications equipment, which is just a fancy way of saying "break stuff"."

"Normally, that would be the case," Bentley admitted, "But not so this time. The radio communications room is at the other end of the garden, and I'm afraid to say that it's in an older, more savage part of this jungle, where Dr. Burger did some experimentation."

"Iyada moro heema ha?" The Guru asked.

"Oh, nothing much, just dinosaurs, giant bugs and the occasional killbot. You know, the usual."

"So what?!" Murray put forward brazenly, "It's just a bunch of cheapo monsters that got knocked off by a giant rock! Woo _**scaaarry**_. Trust me Bentley, neither sleet nor snow nor heat of day nor gloom of night shall stay these chumps from being thumped."

"Hey hapa behe mata," The Guru said sharply.

"Er, right master," Murray began, humbled, "This is all in the name of peace and stuff."

"Right," Bentley said, unconvinced, "I also should mention that there's a file on Dr. Burger's system that even **I** can't get into. Since the radio room is probably a new addition since he joined up with "Clock-La Cult Inc." it was probably protected by some of her best programmers. It has to do with the radio room's security so-"

"Ma hee tee wudo," The Guru said.

"My thoughts exactly."

"Beasts, baddies, **and **machines, and they're all mine to **smash?!**" Murray exclaimed, "This isn't my birthday, is it?"

"No, we're throwing you out of a plane and into a volcano for that."

"RIGHTEOUS!!!"

"You know Murray? Sometimes, you can be a real freak."

"Yeah, but that's why you love me."

"That, and you let me ride shotgun most of the time. Now get to work you two."

With that, the two cautiously moved forward, into the ancient (sorta) and savage (enough) jungle, several feet below the barren wasteland of Antarctica (no question there).

They slowly shifted through the dense bush, taking care to stay away from the main paths and doing their best to make as little noise as possible, lest they alert the ladies to their position. Indeed, this job would be a real challenge, with their foes being of the artificial brand, there'd be no "Hat Day" nonsense like in London. And since they were now travelling in packs of six, well, after dealing with Suzy Q Murray was pretty sure that he could take out three, and there was no doubt The Guru could handle at least one on the fly with no real time to do something **really** freaky. Any number after that, things would become a bit dodgy.

After sometime of walking, the Guru and Murray were almost absolutely certain that they were indeed going in the right direction. Their deductions were partially based on the fact, that they passed several signs reading, "BEWARE!!!", "The radio room's not here, GO AWAY!!!", "Certain doom ahead, karaoke on Thursdays", "Hey man, can't you **read?!**". Another big tip off was the fact that several of the local trees seemed aged and somewhat petrified. However, the real big clue came in this form…

As the two made their way through the underbrush, both Murray and The Guru passed a sign that said something in French. It was hard for the two to decipher the message since The Guru spoke Aborigine and barely understood English, any new language after that was completely over his head, and Murray was felt like he should've slapped himself on the back of his head. Now it wasn't that he couldn't speak French, seeing as much time as he'd spent there it was impossible for him not to be fluent in the language. Reading however was a different story, he remembered clearly a conversation on this very subject between he and Bentley some years ago in a fancy hotel room, they were setting up to make off with the second largest piggy bank in all of Europe (they'd already gotten the first largest the week before).

Murray could hear the turtle's voice clearly, "Murray! Stop watching that stupid boxing match and try to learn some French will ya?"

"Tch, why? We're only going to be in the country for one night, then we're on the first bird outta this dump. After that, I'll never need French again."

"You say that now, but wait and see, one of these days you'll need it."

"**Yeah right!**"

'Yeah right', Murray thought, bringing the setting back to the situation at hand, the irony of the past statement hitting him uglier than a head on Volkswagen/Mack truck collision. Staring at the sign, he knew just enough French to know that the sign was warning them about something (obviously), but he had no idea what exactly it was that he should look out for, he could clearly make out the words "twenty feet deep".

"Ei hata wu naba?" The Guru asked, his question shaking his former pupil out of his inspection.

Taking one last look at the sign, Murray answered, "It says something about sand."

"Hu wu yama shaba?"

"…Nah! I mean, what is someone going to do with sand in a place like this?"

So secure in mind that the path they were taking was the right one, the dynamic duo set off once again, taking the path that their hearts and partly binoc-u-coms…no, let me rephrase that, halfly their, no that's not right either, plus I don't think "halfly" isn't a word at all…Hmm…Ah, I got it now, the path that their hearts, but mostly their…Okay, the path that their **binoc-u-coms** lead them, which do not work in concert with their hearts what-so-ever, because the heart is just a pump inside one's body, and the act of following it is rather foolish indeed since a heart isn't the sort of organ to lead people.

In fact, with such a line of logic, it can be said that those who follow their hearts are, in effect, going nowhere. Those of you who have indeed followed your own heart and found it to be contrary to my thesis can kindly jump off the nearest bridge for proving me wrong (jerks, you know who you are). Or at least have the common decency to at least interrogate other vital organs and arteries for other plausible explanations; it's possible that it wasn't your heart that lead you to purchase that high fiber ultra-healthy milkshake, but perhaps your stomach or a cleanliness craving colon. But in all probability, it was most likely not the fault of any entrails, but just a lack of common sense (which isn't nearly as common as one would be lead to think), since most high fiber ultra-healthy milkshakes are not only without a doubt one of the most disgusting things too look at (f.y.i. they look like diarrhea in a cup), but their taste is horrible (they taste exactly like they look) and are they are expensive to boot (I'll never get my fifteen bucks back). Clearly anyone with common sense wouldn't purchase such an item (why did I buy that shit?), but spend their money on more sensible things (like tire swings, yo-yos and internet porn).

So, with that off my chest…

Secure in mind that the path they were taking was the right one, the dynamic duo (DC, please don't sue me) set off once again, taking the path that their **binoc-u-coms** lead them. They were tough, they were tenacious, they didn't know the meaning of the word quit, they didn't even know the meaning of the word tenacious, they were ready for anything! At least until they jumped over a log and into some quicksand.

Situation was not ideal to say the least, they were sinking and fast, well quick anyways. "Okay Master," Murray said, valiantly keeping calm as his feet disappeared into the classic jungle deathtrap, "I've read up on quick sand, most times it's not even four feet deep."

"He hama meeda he?"

"The sign?" Thinking back to the sign, the words "twenty feet deep" and "sand" stuck out clearly. "Okay, we'll have to get out of here like, really fast, but don't rush, that'll just make things worse. So whatever you do, don't-"

It was at this moment that two Tyrannosaurus Rex' decided to clomp their way onto the scene and stare down at the two thieves stuck in the mud. Oddly enough, the dino's appearance allowed Murray the opportunity to finish his sentence without having to change any of the words.

"**FREAK OUT!!!**" This cry was the start of much screaming produced by the two, which didn't end until they were chest deep in the quicksand (they stopped because they were out of breath). It was at this moment that Murray prematurely had that "life flash before your eyes," thingie, during which he had an epiphany. He was "The Murray!" the baddest dude the world's ever seen, famous for smashing the faces of many a henchman and capable of chucking boulders, baddies and Buicks (and not necessarily in that order). Motivated by this huge swoop of confidence, The Murray called out, "Don't worry Master, for "The Murray" shall break these foes like he breaks the wind." (A/N: please tell me you get that joke). "All they need is a little "logic and reason"."

Unfortunately, "logic and reason" were not available, due to the fact often in situations that Murray finds disconcerting, quicksand related situations included, he often takes to clutching the hem of his shirt. So, "logic and reason" were not so deep in the sand there was no way Murray could pull them out in time.

"Hay hama sheepa?" The Guru asked tentatively.

"Plan B? Why that's easy!" Turning to look the two primordial monsters dead in the eye, he sucked in his stomach, puffed out his chest, and with all the dignity and courage he could muster, he bravely said, "Please! Please! Please don't kill us! We're really gamey and haven't bathed in days! We'd taste horrible, but we know this lion guy, he'd taste awesome, what do ya say!?"

"Well I say," one dino began, in a voice that was usually reserved for those stuffed shirted geezers you see talking on PBS about art or history, you know, those guys that can take a beautiful portrait or utterly horrific battle and turn 'em into total snoozefests? That's what the big bad beastie sounded like. "They **are** a rude lot, aren't they?"

"Rude indeed," agreed the other, in an equally old and stuffy voice.

"Holy cow!" Murray exclaimed, "You guys can talk?!"

"Well aren't **you** the observant one?" the first rex began.

"Observant indeed," agreed the second.

"The worst part is that he doesn't even possess the common courtesy to even inquire as to what our name's are. And before you can even try to cobble together some apology by asking our names, I'll inform you thusly. You have the pleasure of making acquaintances out of the highly regarded Sgt. Pepper and his agreeable compatriot, The Walrus, each formerly of Dr. Burger's decommissioned Lonely Hearts and Eggmen dino brigades respectively. It is utterly "charming" to make your acquaintance."

""Charming" indeed."

At this, Murray took a moment to get a feel for everything that was just said. The second guy made sense enough, but the first was completely incomprehensible. He recognized some of the words, but the sentiment of their meaning was lost on him, and he was almost certain that quite a few of the words were made up or at least really, really, stupid. Turning to look at the Guru for guidance in the matter of advancing, he only received a confused shrug from his equally befuddled mentor.

So forced to lay his cards on the table, Murray gave the two carnivores a big, stupid looking grin and asked, "Okay, can you say that just one more time."

At this Sgt. Pepper gave and annoyed eye roll, waited for a repetition of it from his partner and answered the bewildered in a simpler manner, "I am Sgt. Pepper, he's The Walrus, and we just said hello."

"Hello indeed."

"Oh," said a belittled and slightly embarrassed Murray.

"Honestly old boy, you and you're friend seem about as talkative as that new guard chap at the telecommunications room."

"Talkative indeed."

"Hutama, mur behama," The Guru whispered to Murray, reminding him of not only their assignment, but their current situation as well.

"Okay," Murray put forward to the boring old boneheads, "since you guys aren't going to eat us, could get us out of this quicksand?"

"Ha, ha, ha!" Sgt. Pepper laughed, entertained by the hippo's statement. He suddenly stopped laughing and flashed a wicked grin towards both Murray and The Guru, which was mirrored by his partner. "Not eat you? Why my dear child, whoever said anything of the sort? That idea's just **absurd**."

"**Absurd indeed.**" The Walrus agreed, his grin spreading wider to give a good show of his razor sharp and pearly whites.

It was at this point The Guru had grown tired of this foolish line of banter. His eyes smoked over and a large red wood nearby dislodged itself from the ground. It spun in the air a couple of times, then, as if held by a giant and invisible Babe "The Great Bambino" Ruth, it swung down and, with a mighty crack, sent Sgt. Pepper and The Walrus up into the air and off to some other end of the garden.

Smiling greatly at his handiwork, The Guru looked towards Murray for respect on such a radical act, but instead only received a look rife with disappointment.

"You do realize Master," Murray began, his chin halfway deep in the quicksand, "that you could've done that at any time."

Taken aback by the commentary, The Guru bounced a small rock off Murray's head before mentally snaking several vines into the quicksand to pull them out.

Once the two were out of the muck, they did their best to wipe the muck off themselves and their clothes. After several botched attempts, they returned to their current job. From the commotion The Panda King was sure to commit once he got to the depot, there'd be a definite use for the long range communications.

Finally, after almost half an hour of tromping through cursed jungle, into quicksand, out of quicksand, and dealing with an annoying pair of Jurassic Park rejects, The Guru and Murray parted several large ferns to see a glorious clearing. What lay before was a large man made pond that stretched to the garden's wall. It would've been quite the swim without the metal walkway that ran from their end of the shoreline in a big ring all the way to the door that read "Radio Communications". The two walked onto the walkway towards the door, cutting to the left of the walkway.

"**BROOOOOAAAN!"**

When they were halfway across, the water in the center of the ring began to viciously bubble, the unknown cause letting out a terrible roar. Higher, higher, and higher still the water thrashed, rising to such a height that if it were to collapse, it'd viciously thrust Murray and The Guru over the walk's safety rails and into the water. But as the water seemed to reach the pinnacle of it's height and ferocity, it's ascent slowed to a crawl, and after a few seconds, it stopped rising.

After that, instead of falling in a huge resounding wave, the water slowly lowered itself into the pond, swish and swirling less and less as it lowered. Soon the water was all the way down to it's original level, not a ripple to be seen. In fact, the only evidence that anything had changed was the presence of a an abnormally large daisy poking out of the water, plant was clearly fake due the fact that at the center of it's petals was just your average smiley face, staring placidly at them from across the water.

The two let out a heavy sigh, relieved that it was just a joke, a very good one too. They continued to the door when…

**WHAM!**

Suddenly a gigantic octopus tentacle the color of red and green toxic waste shot of the water behind the hippo and koala. It whipped around and slammed Murray into the side of the walk, denting it, before disappearing back into the water.

The Guru saw this, it was impossible for him not too, and he started to rush over to help up his fallen pupil. However, he was so distracted by the act of helping Murray, that he almost didn't catch the sound of someone hawking-a-lugi. He turned in the flower's direction and saw small wad of green goop heading right towards him. He barely had time to duck before the gunk hit him dead the face. It passed over him harmlessly and landed with a squish on the walk's railing, where the acidic mess bent, melted, burned clear through the iron railing.

Turning towards the flower once more, The Guru saw that it's "face" had changed to a look of pure determination. He however didn't have time to react as another massive tentacle shot out the water behind him. He closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that he was about to be crushed to death in this one single blow, but Murray was of another opinion on the matter. Just in the nick of time, the pink pugilist rushed over and spun into his aboriginal ball form, the glowing shell taking the full force of the blow.

At this point, master and student now stood back to back ready to face this common, and creepy, foe.

The flower spat out another high speed wad of toxic gunk, but this time The Guru was ready. Using his ever impressive psychic abilities, he stopped the ball of poison in mid air and returned it to sender. However, it was stopped as a tentacle shot out of the water to accept the blow. After which, a hurt groan was heard from the water, something under there wasn't too fond of chemical burns.

In retaliation, another tentacle shot out of the water, planning to splat The Guru like a bug, but at this point he'd switched places with Murray, who stood at the ready. When the slimy extremity hurtled downward and into the Murray's range of combat…

**THWAP!**

He gave it a good right and a hard goodnight, sending it crashing back into the water. Immediately after that, yet another appendage shot forth, tip forward, and gave Murray a good thump in the gut. Unfortunately for it, Murray was quick and held the limb fast before it could retreat. It took a lot to hold the tentacle without giving in and letting go, thankfully his concentration was unbroken as the Guru used a tree to block every tentacle blow and acid shot, until their enemy had had enough that garbage and tore it to bits with ease. Using all the strength he could muster, Murray took the end of the appendage and bent it in a perfect one-eighty angle.

"**BROOOOOAAAN!"**

The action not only tore the tentacle's rubbery flesh, which on it's own was certainly painful, but it also provoked it's owner to finally tap dance into the lime light. The water bubbled once more, it rose and thrashed with a violent rancor that was unseen before, something was not a happy camper. The surface of the water finally broke and revealed the head of a horrifically ugly octopus.

The Guru and Murray stared on, glued to the spot. The two were awestruck at the wonder of this man made titan that stared at them maliciously. Their gawking was short lived however, as they heard the sound of thrashing water from below their section of walkway. The two dove in opposite directions as another long, strong arm of the octopus shot up from below and demolished that section of the walkway.

Almost immediately after he got back on his feet, Murray had to start using some of his best dance moves and backsliding, anything to shift his weight around in time, as he had to dodge a barrage of attacks. The octopus had taken kindly to his antics and it was now using it's tentacles to catch the hippo and use it vicious, tooth rimmed suckers to tear the meat from his bones.

The Guru tried to make his way over and help his former student, or at least send something over that could. Unfortunately every time he took a step in that direction or concentrate on sending over a rock or tree, "the flower", which stemmed from the octopus' massive forehead, would spit a gob of acid at him, which he had to duck, or suffer the obvious consequences.

Pain, lots of pain, that's what he felt. Now let it be known, that Murray was quite the tank in his own right, he could take a punch better than most steamrollers, but he wasn't being punch. No, the octopus' tentacles, that were as thick and heavy as steel beams, were slamming into him with enough force to crumple a German Panzer like a tin can. Now he was actually taking the punishment rather well, all things considered, but you can only cough up so much blood before you can start to think you might be in trouble. The suddenly, it stopped, well everything except the ache and soreness in his muscles and face, he was definitely gonna feel **that** in the morning, but the blows were gone.

Opening one slightly bruised eye to the world around him, Murray saw the reason why his beating was halted. The Guru, aboriginal master of mysticism and all things dreamtime, had vanished. This left Murray and the octopus staring at the spot, left with a real head-scratcher. For no reason at all, The Guru had left this epic and decidedly weird battle, vanishing without a trace. Or at least to most passerby it would look so, it almost fooled Murray too, if he hadn't seen the sheet of paper lying on the walkway, with a few words of encouragement scrawled on it; "**GET HIM!**"

Taking the obvious hint, Murray saw that his enemy was still sitting on the question of 'Where'd he go?', and acted on the opportunity. Using the considerable strength he carried in his legs (he weighs in at roughly half a ton and not a bit of it is fat folks, those legs **need** to be powerful), he crouched down and with a berserker's strength, took a flying leap towards the octopus' head.

His enemy of course saw this via "flower", so shifting it's concentration from "The Mystery of The Missing Koala", the octopus reared several of it's tentacles for the coming assault. Simply put, it was going to tear Murray to shreds while he was still in the air.

"Was" being the key word in that last sentence. The Guru transformed from the paper back into his original shape and sent forth several rock which stopped the vicious fish's attack dead in it's tracks (A/N: I know that octopi are not fish, but it rhymes with vicious **waaay** better than the "O" word). Once Murray landed, the first order of business was to keep from getting his face melted by acid, despite it creating some of the coolest people to date (Batman fans know who I'm talking about). Doing his best to keep from sliding around on the slick and rubbery surface, Murray grabbed the "flower" by the stem, and oddly enough, it started to make choking noises.

Seeing that the tentacles weren't going to strike for the moment, Murray decided it was about high time to have a little heart to heart with their brand new pal. Taking care to have a firm grip on the "flower, but making sure not to tear the thing clean off and take an acid bath, Murray used it to slowly lower himself down the octopus' face until he was finally level with an eye the size of a bowling ball, after that, he said only two words.

"Quit it."

"*cough* Oh yeah tough *hack* guy?" came a gasping and wheezing voice that barely escaped the "flower's" black and frowning lips, "What it I *cough* don't?"

Murray then turned his attention towards the acid spitting smiley, since it was the brains of the outfit, or at least the face. 'Or else what?' huh? It was a fair question, but one Murray always had the answer for.

**POW!**

"**BROOOOOAAAN!"**

"OH! OW! YOU JERK! YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE EYE!!" was the flower's all too witty retort to Murray's answer.

Now, not one to be cowed or goaded by name calling, asked politely, "Quit it…please."

"Fine, okay, whatever. Just let go and get off me. I'll leave you two alone, I swear, scouts honor."

Now Murray was never the sort of guy who trusted people who swore (you'll get that joke later kids), and, in light of their current situation, he was pretty sure the octopus was never a scout, and if it was, it obviously didn't go far. To make a long story short, Murray was going nowhere anytime soon. He cast a quick look at the Guru, who was already thinking two moves ahead.

Murray felt a deep and painful pang in his chest as he watched the miniature mystic rush over to the radio and break it in with fragment of shredded tree, something Murray would've **loved **to do with his bare hands. He tried to look away, but failed, so he looked on as The Guru brought forth several small boulders and mentally sent them bouncing around the inside of the room, smashing this and that with ease. It took everything Murray had not to scream out; "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!!"

To Murray, destruction was an art form that had to adhere to very strict guidelines in it's creation, you use spray paint to make graffiti art, not oil pastels. Now he could understand using explosives if your mitts wouldn't do, that only adds lights and sound to the art. But to bang on things with a rock? That was just way too old hat, right up there with dropping your pants for a laugh from the audience or playing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" at a rock concert.

To him, the spectacle was sick, perverse, and **ugly.** Nowadays you use a giant mallet, a crowbar, a metal Louisville Slugger, or, at the absolutely very least; bigger rocks. By the time everything in the room went "Ka-BLOOEY", Murray hung numbly on the side of the octopus, his only thoughts being; 'The Horror, the horror'.

About that time, the octopus finally came up with a strategy to deal with these two goons. If everything went the way it planned, the hippo would be a gutted and bleeding mess left to die, and the koala would be an early evening snack, all it needed was for the hippo to let go of the second head's neck, and a whole world of pain and suffering would be open to him and his partner.

Sadly thought, certain flaws in it's plans were revealed, ever so politely. It dawned on it as it's eyes closed, that Murray, with his level of strength would've torn the tentacle it was going to use in two. Secondly, as it slowly sank into the water, it occurred to it the Guru could've done that vanishing trick again. But the big tip off was the fact that at anytime, or more specifically, right after the he destroyed the machines it was sent to guard, the freaky little creep somehow lifted one of the garden' giant redwoods and cracked it in half over a certain someone's incirrinate (look it up) head.

After that, the octopus felt really, **really** sleepy, it was not a well cephalopod. But it vowed that very day, that very instant, that it would not stop, it would not rest for an instant until it had it's revenge on the mysterious koala and hippo…just as soon as it got over it's severe concussion.

* * *

**LAN Party

* * *

**

"You always take me to the nicest places, honey," Penelope said with a smile as she walked along the corridors of the lab, pushing Bentley's wheel chair all the while.

"Well, you see, I just thought we didn't get out enough these days, sweetums," Bentley said, his attention slightly on making sure their tech was in working order.

"I mean, the sun, the fresh air, the roaming squads of killer robots, it's all so refreshing, darling-diddykins."

"Ugh!" Sly finally shouted over the binoc-u-com disgustedly, he'd been listening in on this conversation for the last ten minutes, despising the **vile** language that was being used. "I'm sick enough as it is **ACHOO! **, do you guys have to do that nonsense? _**snort!**_ Oh, and take the second left coming up and wait for the upcoming squad to pass."

"Roger. But Sly, you shouldn't get riled up and blame us for your current situation. It's not like we **told** to get locked in a freezing watery deathtrap."

"I was saving **your** hide!"

"Oh Sly," Bentley cut in as they entered the broom closet to wait for the upcoming squad to pass, "Must you sink so low. Bringing up something as old as **that**."

"It was just last night! **ACHOO! **_**snort!**_ They're gone, proceed to target."

" 'Proceed to target', " Penelope mimicked, "That was awfully militaristic, especially for you. I think we should keep you like this."

"**ACHOO!** Shut up, this is downright lousy."

"Telling a lady to shut up," Bentley mused, "My how original and witty, I don't know how we'll **ever** beat such a sharp and dazzling intellect."

"Truly," Penelope agreed, "It looks like we've met our match. Stop the presses! I can see it now 'Raccoon Wonder and The Art Of Shut Up'. It'll sell millions."

"Toys, t-shirts, bumper stickers, made for TV movies, the world is your oyster Sly."

"_**SNORT!**_I hate oysters," Sly said dismally, "You're there by the way."

Penelope and Bentley now stood in front of a door that had a skull and crossbones sign that said; "It's your funeral, man".

"Okay," Penelope said anxiously as she stared at the door, "Why couldn't we hide in one of the broom closets again?"

"Because they're being checked," Bentley answered bleakly.

"What is this place anyway?"

Always the sort of man to lead by demonstration rather than explanation, Bentley wheeled forward and opened the door. The stench that hit them was the stuff of nightmares, and not the normal kind where you're naked at an important business meeting, the nasty terrible kind where scorpion monsters dressed as surgeons dissect you, cut open your head, remove your brain, pickle it, and laugh because you are forced to see it happen (everyone's had that one, right?).

"ARRRGH!" Penelope screamed as just pure waves of stink washed over her, "What in the name of Mike is in there!? It smells like three week old road kill dipped in turpentine and mixed with bad Indian food!"

"It smells more like rancid, rotten spinage and asparagus mixed with burning garbage and the remains of a bad fly orgy, with all of it being shoved up a skunk's butthole." Bentley commented, his eyes starting to water up.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT THIS PLACE SMELLS LIKE!!! Why does it smell like hell's bathroom?!"

Entering the rank room, Penelope saw several conveyor belts dump piles of only God knows what into a massive incinerator. "This _**charming **_spot," Bentley said ruefully, handing her scented nose plugs, is the waste management plant for the entire lab. Every bad experiment, every time there's an overflow of dino waste, it all comes here, unfortunately. It'll be the last place Dr. Burger will look."

"That's because anyone dumb enough to hide in here probably chokes to death! Ick! Now I'm starting to taste the air."

"You know, _**snort!**_" Sly started sickly, "I am **so** glad that I'm sick."

"The only reason why we're here is **because**you're sick," Bentley lamented dryly, "Okay let's go over the plan."

"Oh please no," Penelope begged, "We all know our jobs, let's just get to it, I don't want to spend too much time here."

"Trust me, as much as we don't want to be here, we definitely don't want to come back here. So let's make sure we do it right. Sly, will you start us off?"

"**ACHOO!** Sure thing," Sly began, "_**snort! **_For this job I'm the man behind the computer I feed you all the nice juicy information from the monitors you need."

"Penelope?"

"You and I are working in concert," Penelope said on the verge of gagging, "Using my car and your grapple cam, we'll covertly dispatch Dr. Burger's personal guard as he prowls the lab."

"The southern end of the lab to be precise," Sly cut in, "**ACHOO! **Which is why you have to sit in dungville central, elsewise, _**snort!**_, your gear'll lose all connection to their remotes anywhere else."

"Precisely," Bentley agreed with a slight hint of spite in his voice, "However, once his guard's dispatched, we steal a key card for access to the Lava Lamp Generator, which he incidentally has on him at all times."

"_**snort! **_After which," Sly continued, "We get to have fun splashing around in cooling fluid we it _**snort! **_comes time for the big job."

It is at this time that I must divert away from the story to allow a more accurate description of the equipment that is to come into play. In our tale we've already encountered Penelope's ever powerful RC car. It has twin mini-automatic cannons at it's top, as well as very strong pressure plates on its sides, and, at it's back a highly powerful nitrous jet.

Next is Bentley's rather remarkable grapple-cam. This particular piece of equipment isn't yet another in a long line of devices that go boom after being thrown, it is that and so much more. The device is slightly larger than an average hand held bomb, it packs a lower punch than it's smaller brothers, but makes up for it in it's many different and highly applicable uses.

It's capable of movement independent of being thrown by utilizing a sophisticated claw and zip-line system. It is also coated with a rather potent adhesive that allows it to stick to just about anything; wood, metal, glass, melting ice, etc. Not just that, but what's more is the fact that it contains full audio and visual equipment allowing it to see the target and, if necessary, talk to it if need be. And of course, what state of the art surveillance gadget is complete without a fully functioning mini-automatic cannon of it's very own?

Penelope opened the door and got as much fresh air as she could before dropping both her car and the grapple-cam on the floor. After that she walked over to Bentley and received the most crucial piece of equipment that was an absolute requirement for the operation.

The turtle pushed a button and a compartment on his chair opened. From it Penelope pulled out a pack of gum and three Green Bulls (it gives you fins) for herself, and a thermos of coffee and twenty Twinkies for the gentleman in the shell. Each with their respective tools in hand, the two techies did their customary rituals for such an operation. The lady did so by chugging a Green Bull and popping a bubble with her gum, the gent by taking a huge swig of coffee and cramming three Twinkies in his mouth…they were ready, and may God have mercy on those that stood against them, they were fresh out at the moment.

The two flipped on their respective devices and were subject to full audio and visual from the hall outside the plant. Chomping on their junk food, the two became immersed in the screens before them. The pieces in their ears, the reflexive actions of fingers on buttons and joysticks, and, more than anything else, the HD images that flooded their vision and filtered through to their brains was their entire world now, and they planned to do right by it.

"Okay," Sly said, staring at the monitor that showed the door to the waste management plant, "**ACHOO! **The Doc's checking various rooms _**snort! **_east of you. Proceed to your left take the third right, two second lefts, _**snort! **_a first right and then straight on." He sat and waited, at first he thought that he'd lost sound with them, but then the devices on screen started to move.

The two followed Sly's instructions to the letter, Bentley taking the high road, and Penelope on the low, for obvious reasons. But on the last right, Bentley found his vision flooded with a larger than life look at Dr. Burger's face. Meanwhile Penelope was left on the floor to dodge the doctor's dirty feet and the feet of the personal guard behind him. Bentley clenched his teeth, waiting for Dr. Burger to freak out and sick his guards on the grapple-cam. He was disappointed in that aspect, as the good doctor walked on without so much as a slight inhale, and the girls followed, each giving the grapple-cam a very good evil eye without missing a step.

This of course confused The Cooper gang think tank duo, but half their answer came when the doctor entered a room to the left, giving them a good look at the headphones plastered over his ear, blaring about someone named Sister Goldenhair. "Sly," Bentley said, still seeking more answers, "my ThiefNet computer should still be on the table, go get it."

"_**snort! **_Sure thing," the raccoon replied. Swiveling his chair, Sly got up and walked over to still active piece of equipment, "**ACHOO!** Okay, what now?"

"It has a direct link to my computer here, send me all info we got from Suzy Q on the androids AI, subsection; bodyguard."

"…Okay, it's asking for a password."

"Black Baron, all one word."

"Aww, that's sweet," Penelope said, silently moving the car into the room before the doors closed.

"…Okay, this explains it. They're under orders to attack anything living or that just simply looks dangerous or out of the ordinary as a standard."

"_**snort!**_ Wouldn't that mean weird devices stuck to walls?" Sly asked.

"In a place like this?"

"**ACHOO!** Point taken."

"So long as we're not seen doing something dangerous, we'll be fine. After that, they work by a mind over matter protocol."

"'Mind over matter'?" Penelope asked.

"If he doesn't mind, it doesn't matter."

"Hmph…funny, but can we get some info on just who is in this guard detail?" Penelope asked sharply.

"No problem," Bentley said, positioning the grapple-cam above the door Dr. Burger and his girl's went through, "Suzy Q also gave us a roster of all androids in the lab."

"_**snort!**_ I'm looking at the roster," Sly began, "it's lengthy, can I get a description?"

"My grapple-cam doesn't have a record function."

"My car has a camera," Penelope cut in, "Gimme a sec." She hid the car behind an old wastebasket and snapped shots of the four guards that trailed behind Dr. Burger as he stalked an old locker room reserved for henchmen. "Okay, I'm uploading the shots."

"_**snort! **_Got 'em…searching…okay, **ACHOO!** here's the score…Wow, it's a good thing that we aren't physically down there."

"What're the stats?" Bentley asked irritatedly.

"Well, after Quinn the Eskimo, these girls have the highest _**snort! **_success rate out of all the androids on the roster. They're trained and built to be the very best."

"Joy," Penelope said sarcastically.

"Don't worry, there're certain kinks about them **ACHOO! **that you can work on to give you an edge."

"Unique in Burger's eyes, weaknesses in ours," Bentley said with a sinister chuckle, "Marvelous."

"You'll have to go at 'em one at a time, _**snort! **_so I'll read off the fact as you deal with 'em."

"Okay, they're leaving the locker room," Penelope informed the other two, darting he car out the door before it closed.

Bentley sat in wait, making sure not to move until the parade of punishment had passed under the grapple-cam before joining Penelope in silently stalking their prey. The protection parade formed a loose single file line behind Dr. Burger as he played air guitar for "Mrs. Robinson." The Lady at the back was a girl garbed in a red and black feather coat, with a poodle skirt, biker gloves and sandals following the same color scheme.

"Okay, _**snort!**_" began Sly, "it says here her name's Miss Scarlett, duh, **ACHOO!** Has a thing for red, huh, no kidding."

"And that helps us how?" Penelope asked with irritation apparent in her voice, she did not like staying in that waste dump.

"I think I see a way," Bentley said as he "studied" Miss Scarlett's shapely legs, and the black fishnets that clung so tightly to them. "Sly, where's he heading?"

"Umm…the monitors say the second left, it's an area he hasn't checked yet."

"Is there an elevator nearby?"

"Yeah, it's the first thing you go by."

At this point, Bentley zip-lined ahead of the group, going over Dr. Burger's oblivious head, and catching nothing but dirty looks from the guards. "The ThiefNet computer's already patched into the lab's systems, can you open the elevator doors?"

"**ACHOO! **Uno momento…nothing doing, I can access it, but it's got an encryption blocking it, and I'm not too good with your tank program."

"Use 'Gorilla and Plumber'," Penelope suggested.

"Gorilla and Plumber?!" Bentley said aghast, "That **is **an old one."

"But a good one."

"_**snort!**_ It's open," Sly said.

"Case in point."

"Alright sweetheart," Bentley said, handing her the mike to his grapple-cam, "Repeat after me."

Miss Scarlett wasn't too worried. From what she's been hearing, the raccoon was a drowned rat, and this mouse chick had nowhere to go, there was no way for her to escape. It was just a matter of time before they find out where she's holed up at. Then everything goes back to business as usual; torture, interrogation, execution, world domination, y'know, the fun things in life.

Until then, it was nanny work. She was pretty sure that she could handle whatever the creepy little ball swinging around could throw. Dr. Burger was in safe hands. Dr. Burger…now **that's** a **man**, it always astounded her that even a man at his age could keep his butt so **firm**, that's what she liked most about him, or at least programmed to like.

Her steely confidence was slightly dented however at the fact that the creepy little hook-ball had disappeared as they rounded the corner. After looking all around, Miss Scarlett saw that her sisters too had lost the malevolent little trinket. Thinking nothing of it, she focused back on the Burger, trying to ignore the annoying little car right at her heels.

It was at that time that she heard a noise come from the elevator behind her. At first she thought she'd imagined it, the logics of which she'd grapple with later. Forcing it away from her zeroes and ones, she focused back on the doctor, but then she heard it once more, she was sure of it this time. She heard some chick in the elevator yapping, "Look at that, a perfectly good pair of **red** **fishnet stockings** that someone just left here in the **elevator**. Well **I **certainly don't want 'em. **Oh well**."

Well! That's all Miss Scarlett needed to hear. Being as sneaky as she could be, and sometimes she was so sneaky that she surprised herself, she slunk away from the group and headed towards the elevator and her brand new pair of **red **stockings.

Unfortunately, when Miss Scarlett entered, she felt that something was amiss. She soon realized that she'd been bamboozled, and it wasn't because the doors suddenly snapped shut, and it wasn't the fact that she was the only person in the elevator. It was from the terrible and horrific fact that nowhere, no matter where she looked or how hard she looked, THERE WERE **NO** MOTHER F***ING FISHNET STALKINGS **ANYWHERE!!!** **THE HORROR!**

Taking a step back from this melodrama, Scarlett went back into work mode, just as she heard the sound of a small cannon fire. A grin spread across Bentley's face as he pulled the trigger that severed the elevator cables, sending Miss Scarlett on a one way trip to the bottom of the shaft.

"Going down?" Bentley asked sadistically to no one in particular, sending the grapple-cam out of the shaft.

"OH MAN! _**snort!**_" Sly whooped, "That was perfect!"

"I do aim to please."

"Meh," Penelope sighed, "it was okay."

"What are you talking about? That trap was perfect!"

"Well…you **did** mention a modern marvel of science, along with an elevator we could've used during the big job. Not to mention there was too much set up for such a simple prank."

"You're criticizing…how I kill robots?"

"…Yes I guess that's right."

"Fine, let's see you dispatch one faster, and without resorting to deadly force."

"Piece of cake. Sly what's the score?"

The next one up for the chopping block was a busty brunette in a rather unusual French maid outfit, and when I say unusual, I mean the apron was a checkerboard, the lacy dress had a black with white polka dots and leggy thigh-high boots that sported a zebra-stripe pattern.

"**ACHOO!** Her name's Mrs. White, _**snort!**_ Sorry but there's not a whole lot to work with on this one. Her hearing's a bit better than the others, but that's about it."

"…Aren't we near the outer wall?"

"_**snort!**_Hold on…yeah, you're headed right towards it in fact."

"Perfect," Penelope said, glad that her course didn't need to change. She continued to drive slowly behind the lot until they took a right and went down a hall that had windows on the left looking out to sea. It was at this point that Penelope slowed down and drove parallel to the windowed wall.

Making sure the group was out of decent earshot as they rounded a corner, Penelope started hitting the switch for the pressure plate, slamming the sturdy piece of steel repeatedly into the chrome wall, denting it. She then backed away from the wall and shot it, blasting a hole in it that was roughly the size of Murray's big toe (trust me folks, that is one **heckuva** toe!). Almost immediately, gallons of near zero Antarctic started to flood in through the hole, fortunately with no sign of widening.

"Okay," Bentley said with a less than impressed tone of voice, "you made a hole that didn't set off the alarms what's so-"

"Shh!" Penelope cut in, "…wait for it."

"…Wait for-"

For the second consecutive time in the last two minutes, Bentley had been interrupted. However, on the second time, it was the answer to his unfinished question that did the interrupting. At that very moment, being the only one with good enough hearing to recognize the sound of a leak, Mrs. White came streaking back down the hall and around the corner like a bat out of hell. The lab **always** came first, no matter what, that's what Burger taught them.

Penelope barely had time to move her car before Mrs. White took a baseball slide towards the hole, clasping her hand over the leak. She breathed a sigh of relief, or at least her rendition of an artificial one, it was all okay, least that's what her overly bright and sunny personality said. Plus, she asked her magic eight-ball if today was gonna be a groovy one, and it said, "maybe," and **everyone **knows that means yes.

Okay, sure, she was lying on the floor with her hand over a rather nasty leak whilst two very suspicious looking devices rushed off after her boss with the possibility of causing harm to him. She **would** have yelled to warn her sisters about the possible assassins, but Dr. Burger was lip syncing to "Imagine All The People," when she ran off, and he gave explicit instructions never to bother him when that song is played. It was all going to work out a right nice slice of okay, the eight-ball said so.

"Okay," Bentley started, "I'll admit that that had way more finesse than the elevator."

"Why thank you," Penelope said, smiling at the compliment, despite her surroundings.

"When you two are done licking each other's boots, _**snort!**_" Sly said curtly, "We're still on the clock."

"Geez Louise, your one to talk, you goof off on the job all the time."

"**ACHOO! **Things change when you catch the cold from hell. _**snort!**_ He'll be coming up on the left."

"Roger," Bentley said. As the grapple-cam and car rounded the corner, each in their own way, they set sights on their next target. As strange as the characters came in this throwback to a bygone era, this lady had the final word on **strange**. Looking more like an escapee from La Nouba rather than an evil robot henchwoman, the next target was a tall leggy blonde who was dressed from hairline to toe in, what Penelope hoped was (and Bentley didn't), a deep blue, skin tight, body sized leotard, accentuated with thin, light green swirls.

"**ACHOO!** "little miss loony" here goes by Mrs. Peacock, _**snort!**_ She's hardly ever called up for guard duty, _**snort!**_ since her lot is usually assassination, which explains why her armor's really heavy…just about everywhere except the joints. **ACHOO! **And yes Bentley, all that **is** painted on."

Working hard not to smile at the last bit of information as Penelope's eyes fell on him, Bentley sat and tried to think of a way to take care of Peacock quickly and quietly. "I got an idea," Bentley said.

"Really?" Penelope asked with hope in her eyes, as she too was grasping at straws for an answer to their current predicament.

"Yeah, all we'll need is some duct tape, one, no, **two** screwdrivers, a magnet, and one solar powered particle accelerator weighing approximately sixteen-point-thirty three kilograms."

"…"

"…It seemed like a good idea in my head…"

"…"

"…Well it did!..."

"_**snort! **_There's an open stairwell if that helps," Slay said, chipping in.

"…Actually," Penelope said, a sinister smile spreading across her face that'd make the Grinch proud.

Peacock was worried. Half the protection guard had disappeared, well, run off to be precise. For Scarlett to do so wasn't too surprising, she'd always been little…off. But White was a surprise however, she'd always been a tad bit more reliable, completing the job no matter what and only failing in an objective when it was in conflict with an objective of a higher priority. Then of course there was the fact of the matter was that there were two mysterious little gizmo's trailing behind them. She knew there was something fishy going on with those trinkets, and that just wasn't because they were several fathoms below the water and ice (wokka wokka!). For instance, there was the fact that when they suddenly appeared, and not long after the others start to **dis**appear, and the fact that…well…that was about it. The main problem was that she didn't know if the toys belonged to Burger or some really ungroovy dudes, she would ask the doctor herself, but he just hit the John Lennon section of his portable 8-million track player, and he totally freaks out whenever anyone interrupts his karaoke session with that playing.

It was about that time the little "Spider-Ham" wanna-be ball zipped over and went ahead to the stairwell that they were coming to. Well that was the last straw for Mrs. Peacock. She was going to march up to Dr. Burger, yank those stupid little plugs out of his head and give him a real earful. She was going to **demand** that he tell her what those things are, Lennon or no.

Unfortunately, things change, yes, and they transmute as well, in heaven above, and here in hell (A/N: I do not claim ownership to the last statement, those lovely little lines of dialogue were written by the ever talented Neil Gaiman, from his multi-award winning graphic novel "The Sandman", in my opinion, the greatest story ever told!)

Now back to our story.

Unfortunately, things changes, and they always have such a nasty tendency to do so at the worst of times. Just as Mrs. Peacock was about to march over to berate her boss (not the smartest idea, I know), the RC car drove under her foot before it padded on the floor. What happened next was something highly reminiscent of the cartoons we all grew up watching, you know, the ones where the plucky cat or the sneaky coyote step on a roller skate that sends 'em on a wild ride that for no reason does a u-turn and chucks them into something unpleasant. In this case it was the stairwell.

And to pile more good news on, it was a spiral stair with a steep incline and practically no landings. Here's the equation; super hot robot chick, plus steep spiral stair, minus any real landings or means of slowing down equals: Mrs. Peacock going down three stories before she actually stopped. Once she got back on her feet, Mrs. Peacock was mad as hell (shocking, I know). She was going to run up there and smash that freakin' car into a million and one pieces, and she would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for that meddlin' grapple-cam! (A/N: Go ahead, laugh, it was funny).

Bentley, being the ever lovable fly on the wall followed the decline of Mrs. Peacock, and he saw her go down the stairs too. He had to wait for her to get back on her feet before he caught the look of murder in her eye. Simply put, she was going to moidelize the car, and that just wouldn't do. He targeted one knee, sighed, he'd feel bad about this later, and pressed a button that fired the grapple-cam's cannon, knocking out one leg, then the other. And as an afterthought, he took her arms at the elbows to make sure she couldn't come crawling back.

It was a few minutes before the grapple-cam rejoined Penelope's RC car in tailing Dr. Burger and his last body guard

"You're lucky that the grapple-cam requires you to wear earpieces," Penelope said dryly, breaking radio silence, "His rendition of "Working Class Hero" is the worst you've ever heard."

"How can he ruin "Working Class Hero"?" Bentley asked, genuinely surprised, "it's practically impossible to sing it incorrectly."

"Trust me, he did."

"The fiend! What's next on the menu Sly?"

The last bodyguard was a frizzy brown haired woman in a black cabaret pinstripe suit with a deep purple trench coat and fedora, she had a real noir feel to her.

"**ACHOO!** Her name's Prof. Plum and she's…oh man. _**snort!**_ From the looks of it, after Quinn the Eskimo, she's the most dangerous robot Dr. Burger's got."

Penelope took a minute to think on this, to be honest it was a real head scratcher. She'd heard what the Quinn was capable of, and anything even remotely close to that wasn't going to be taken out with what they had to work with. She turned to Bentley and delivered this message with a long face and a heavy heart; "Unless Burger himself calls off Plum, this operation's doomed."

The reaction to this ill boding news was quite unexpected however, mostly because Bentley retorted like this, "AH-HA-HA-HA!!!"

"…There's no chance at winning…"

"WAH-HA-HA-HA!!!"

"…We're not going to, ugh, look, what's so funny?"

"Hee, hee, hee, don't you get it? We have this job in the bag! I just wish I could've realized this sooner."

"…WHAT?!"

"Okay look," Bentley said, pressing a button that opened a small compartment that Penelope had never noticed before. From it, he pulled out a small handheld box that, aside from a small screen and a few knobs, looked to her like any other wire patch, she had a million of them back on the boat, and a million more in the garage at home.

"What is it? _**snort!**_" Sly asked over the mike, not knowing what was happening.

"I'm just using a souvenir we got from The Contessa back in Prague."

"Souve-…oh, The Clockwerk Eyes job, that brings back memories,…none of them are really good."

"Oh yes, The Clockwerk Eyes job, who could **ever** forget that one?" Penelope said sarcastically, she hated it when those two and Murray talked about the old days, she was out of the loop and felt stupid, and Penelope and stupid do not mix well.

"Sorry Penelope," Bentley said, "this is the Contessa's experimental voice emulator."

"And it helps us how?"

"Give me moment to integrate it into my grapple-cam systems, and prepare to be amazed."

It was hard, really hard, nearly impossible. She tried her best and it was still a struggle for Prof. Plum not to smile. This was it, the last step, her ticket to the top, and it was all thanks to whatever idiot was in control of the car and chain ball. They'd been picking off the rest of the guard left and right, which was still astounding to her since it took herself so long to bump off Rev. Green and Col. Mustard and make those girls' deaths look like accidents. These two were doing that and more in the span of an hour or so. Sure she could stop the gadgets and save her compatriots, but why let them share in her crowning glory? But with the others gone, once she smashes the toys and alerts the doctor, that was it.

She pictured it perfectly, once she destroyed the spy devices, she'd alert the doctor to the danger he was in and how she **single-handedly **saved his life. Then that was it, she'd be the doctor's favorite. No more sitting in cold storage, no more missions with those three other idiots, and certainly no more playing second fiddle to that **pathetic** Eskimo. She'd be the doc's number one, and there was nothing in store except only the toughest and most glorified missions. Look out world! The Age of The Plum has **arrived!**

She could barely contain her joy as she watched the car, with the ball on top of it, zip past and drive in between Dr. Burger's feet. This was too easy. As strong as her own feet were, all she needed to do now was speed up a bit and-

"Go swim in the volcano."

Plum practically stopped dead in her tracks, the order came from nowhere, and the idea of any order that endangered her own beautiful skin was horrifying without question. The most disturbing part was that the order came from Dr. Burger's location and in his voice.

No, it was impossible, he'd never say such a hateful thing, not **her** doctor. No…not unless…no, he couldn't have figured out that she's been killing her teammates to further her own ambitions. She was always so careful, **always**. It must've been a mistake. Yeah that was it, chances were he was singing some lyric from whatever stupid scatter-brained song he was listening to, that was it.

"Yo! Are you totally deaf, man? I said go swim in the volcano, for an hour, no, make it two, oh, and like totally bring back some nachos when you get back, 'kay? Thanks babe."

And just like that, forty years of plotting, planning, scamming, scheming, and more plotting; all down the tube. Heh, funny.

It took a commendable effort on Bentley's behalf to remember to shut off the mike before laughing like a maniac. The grapple-cam equipment? Six hundred dollars. His suped-up wheelchair? Two thousand five hundred dollars. The look of shock on Prof. Plum's face? Priceless. Of all the things he could've thrown at her; that was the last thing she'd ever expected.

Now, all that was left to do was pluck the lava generator access card from Burger himself. Bentley smiled as he aimed the grapple arm at Dr. Burger's back pocket. "Now, you might feel a slight pinch…"

**Pluck!**

"Now, now, Scarlett, I know my butt's really cool but we're on the clock," Dr. Burger said with a laugh. That Scarlett, always playing jokes.

* * *

And that folks is chapter nine.

I think it goes without saying that I'm sorry for taking so long on this update, especially to all my regular readers and reviewers. I had college stuff I needed to apply for, not to mention it was the end of the school year, and it's **always** hectic. But, thank god, it's summer vacation, so with no more school, no more books, and no more teachers dirty looks, I got the free time to really sink my teeth into the story.

And, without further ado, let's give a round of applause to the guys who can actually stomach all my garbage and say something nice about it.

**sotnosen93:** Thank you, I'd be a comedian if I weren't allergic to rotten tomatoes. I hope that I answered your question by now. I kinda assumed that since Sly locked himself in a freezing, metal, and watery death trap, we should probably focus on his problems for that moment.

**Green Phantom Queen:** Thanks, I always try to find just the right mix of comedy and calamity in any chapter, I still feel I was just a bit **too** serious during the dream bit, but then again, I am the eternal clown, so I guess I'll never know. Anyways, thanks for for your thoughts and trust me, this story's gonna be like the flu, it's gonna get worse before it get's better.

**The Good Thief:** Hey man, thanks. Anyone saying that my story's their favorite really gets me right here (I'm pointing to my heart…or lung, which side of the body is the heart supposed to be?). I'll try not to keep you waiting so long for another update.

**Arktikum:** Oh no, how dare I write a good story that people read. Spank me, I've been **bad**. Anyways, Ash, trust me, it's like the song goes: "you ain't seen nothing yet!" Oh, and "pow KAPOW!" to you too. ;P

Now, it's sad to say it, but it's time to head on out boys and goils. So I'll just sum this up by saying, please review, I'm sorry for taking so long, keep at me to crank out another chapter, and PLEASE REVIEW!!! It makes my panties wet (I'm not a chick, I just like wearing their clothes (that's a joke by the way)). So you guys soon.


	11. OP: Lava Leak

Your attention please! We will now be serving the main course. Which features lemon roasted duck, onion grilled venison, sautéed lobster with chives, and Chapter the Tenth, in which our heroes blows things up, the lead singer from The Doors rises from the grave, and the second act concludes.

* * *

"Okay guys," Bentley said, "We've been through the preliminary match ups, and had some close calls, now it's time to take a title shot." **CLICK. **The mission name. "Operation Lava Leak is a roughly simple one. We have two objectives here, both of them a priority to halting the cult's operations." **CLICK.** The shrink ray, **CLICK. **The jetpacks, **CLICK.** The UFO. "First, since it's painfully obvious that since we can't sabotage and take out each and every single project underway here at the lab, we'll have to destroy them all at once." **CLICK.** The floor staff. "Which will be impossible if we can't get past all these chick-bots. Murray, it'll be your responsibility to act as a distraction, barrel through the lab and get a real mob after you." **CLICK. **The Lava Lamp generator. "Once the main floor is cleared out, Penelope, Panda King, Dimitri, and I will work on breaking open the generator. There are guards posted at the floor entrance, and it'll be watched continuously throughout the operation so we'll be entering via the observation window Sly found at the start of all this. After we demolish the generator glass, the entire factory floor will become flooded with cooling fluids and molten lava, destroying the inventions." **CLICK. **Dr. Burger. "Of course all that effort will be for nothing if Dr. Burger gets away and makes contact with the cult. If he gets away, Clock-la will just have him rebuild his work, she's not crazy enough to kill him." **CLICK.** The Yellow Submarine. "He got real spooked after the generator key was stolen from him, so he's been stocking up the Yellow Submarine. If he gets slightest inclination that we're making a move on the sub, and he's gone, free to remake all that's been lost. But we have an ace up our sleeve," **CLICK.** Snapshots of the ghosts from Prague. "For years, Dr. Burger's been trying to prove the existence of ghosts and study them scientifically. Guru, you're going to give him that ghost." **CLICK. **The Yellow Submarine elevator. "Sly, once the doctor leaves it'll be your job to make your way into the sub. Lie in wait and when Dr. Burger returns, pounce. You can take an old man, right?"

* * *

**The Antarctic, 7:00 am**

She rounded the last corner and came face to face with twelve chick-bots, all armed to the teeth and each sporting a handheld ray-gun prototype, guarding the elevator room, ready to shoot even the smallest fly that dares to impede on their master's safety. They were about to fire upon her, she could tell. She could see the small things that you or I never could, knowing her fate by the subtle arches in the fingers and the almost invisible shifts in the eyes.

"Like, friend or foe, man?" one put forth.

The girl gave them a condescending stare before she raised her arm and knocked on the side of head, the sound of metal on metal filling the hall. That's all they really needed to hear.

"Okay man, what is it?"

"There's something that the Burger's totally got to see," the girl said, speaking for the first time since this tense situation began.

"Oh yeah, like what?"

* * *

Things were totally not going well. Dr. Burger looked himself up and down in his bathroom mirror. Tracing his eyes through the elderly weaves and beads in his beard, it went without saying that he totally needed a shave, but he totally wasn't going to submit to **The Man** and get one anytime soon. No man, what was bugging the heck out of him was like, two days ago someone knocked out the laser vision power system, and, well, almost every other system, on top of putting the hurt on The Mighty Quinn. Yesterday, after he thought the little squirts were snuffed out, they finished the job, and made sure he couldn't call for help. With all that's going on, when it came time for some face to face with Clock-la, well in the immortal words of Ricky, he would, "Got some s'plaining to do!" (A/N: Yeah I gotta admit, I **Love **Lucy).

Now, for the second day in a row for the longest time in all memory, he woke up almost completely blind to the affairs of the goings on in his own home. The cameras were down, when the security detail called in; they **still** didn't find the mouse chick or the raccoon dude's body, by the time his corn flakes got to him in bed, they were all soggy, **and** he stubbed his toe when he got out of bed.

To be totally honest, he was like, just gonna curl up in his king sized water bed with the extra thick and warm tie dye blankets, turn on the radio, put on some Petula Clarke, and just go to sleep, some days just didn't pay to get out of bed. He was gonna do exactly that, but then his secretary, Silver, totally rang up, and she was like, "Dr. Burger, here's something that you must here."

"Silvy, I told ya, call me Roy."

"Yes, Dr. Burger."

"*sigh* What is it man?"

* * *

Dr. Burger simply could not believe it! He was beaming so much that he practically glowed as he exited the elevator, and to be honest, it was too good for words! He'd been in every condemned hospital, closed down insane asylum, messed up prison, and mud strewn battle field from San Fran to Shanghai and nothing. But here, of all places, it finally happens, it was a dream come true. He just needed to hear it one more time straight from the horse's mouth.

"Where is she?!" he asked, practically screaming, as giddy as a kid on Christmas, "Where is she man?! I need her to say it one more time."

"She's right here Dr. Burger," Silver said, parting the mob of guards leading Dr. Burger to the guest of honor.

"Okay babe, tell me what you said."

"It's exactly as I told Silver here," the informant said, Dr. Burger recognized her as one of his cat repair girls, "There's a ghost in the east wing."

* * *

Murray was nervous, now when I say that I mean; he was **extremely** nervous. And y'know? Somehow I get the feeling that you still don't quite grasp the sentiment, so allow me to put it as such; Murray was sweating so profusely that he flood a car within an hour (an over exaggeration I know, but I think the sentiment shines through).

Sure, he'd beat down on miners or go toe to toe with cutthroat pirate crews without breaking a sweat, but there was always the major theme of the opposition just being flat out…well…sucky. This was totally different, his nose **still** hurt from when Suzy Q elbowed him in the face, and he'd be forced to face more **exactly** like her?! And how many would that be? A hundred? Two hundred? More? This was not good, not one bit.

Well, doing as he often did before going into stressful situations, he sucked in his gut, cracked his knuckles, briefly thought about the super cool and awesome spy thriller cowboy astronaut novel he'd eventually get to writing one of these days, and set himself into the right mood needed to truly enjoy punching whatever was on the other side in the face. Then, as per the usual, he turned a corner in his life; in this case it was the corner that rounded to the double doors to the factory floor. Two guards stood at the ready. He grinned, this would be interesting.

* * *

"Are we all clear?" Bentley said, his attention transfixed on the high caliber explosives that he, Dimitri and the Panda King would be using for the upcoming task.

"No," Penelope said, staring down at the factory floor, nose pressed to the window they were about to destroy.

"Iz super slow, no go bro," Dimitri said looking down at the floor for his own inspection, dressed in his scuba suit once more "Main Man Murray ain't, whoa! Hold the cake!"

"What is it?!" Bentley said his voice heavy with worry.

"Murray just knocked the doors off their hinges," Penelope said, amazed, "and knocked the first robot he saw off her feet and into several others."

"Oh," Bentley said returning to his work, sighing with relief, "He's just getting their attention."

"Yeah, yeah," Dimitri agreed, "he yelling, he yelling."

"Now he's saying hello."

"Wow," Penelope said, "Now they're really mad."

"Along with the customary insult, next he's going to break something.

"Yeah, he got that moves to do the juice," Dimitri agreed…I think, "He playing the grooves with that beach ball thing and, **oochemama!**"

"What!?"

"Murray just steamrolled over some science project," Penelope said slightly sad at her statement.

"Which one?"

"Can't tell but they're really really steamed now, that's for sure."

"They're not trying to stop him?"

"They try," Dimitri said with a sinister chuckle.

"Yeah," Penelope agreed, "they're throwing themselves in front of him, but you know how destructive he is in ball form."

"That sounds about right," Bentley admitted, "About now he should be…"

"Ohp!" Dimitri exclaimed, "He leave."

"And they're all chasing after him," Penelope added.

"Yep," Bentley said, cracking his typing fingers, "The doctor's left his sub and should find the ghost anytime now, and the main floor is clear, it's time to get this show on the road. Panda King would you kindly take care of the this window?"

The Panda King up until that moment had been sitting cross legged with his back to the wall and his eyes closed.

"Hmph," Dimitri, "Funny, whenever I creep and sleep on the job, I get yelled at."

"First of all," Bentley began, "Most of the time when you're on the job, you're underwater."

"So?"

"Ignoring that, second of all, the Panda King was probably meditating on the difficulties of the task to come."

"No, I was sleeping," The Panda King corrected, "What is it that you require Mr. Bentley?"

At this, Bentley sighed, hung his head low, and jabbed his thumb at the window. The Panda King then took point; he marched over to the glass and inspected it thoroughly, pressing his ear to it, occasionally knocking on it with his knuckles. Satisfied, he attached several firecrackers to the window via his special blend of multicolored plastique. After that he told his partners to back away and…

**Crack-crack-carack-rack-BOOM!**

I think you know.

Now it was Penelope's turn. She picked her helicopter off the floor. She turn on the power, let the blades spin for a bit to gather speed before finally letting it fly out of the sizable hole the Panda King made for her, himself, and the others. She let the mini chopper fly up to level with the floor above before lowering the grapple line. It took several minutes but one by one, she'd lowered everyone, including herself down to factory level, and with no chick-bots left, the floor was theirs.

"YES! I AM DEAD! WOOOO!" Bentley shouted, letting out the strangest victory chant any of them had ever heard. When the others looked at him, each wearing a wonderful shade of shock and confusion, he merely pointed to his grapple-cam headset before continuing, "YEAH SERIOUSLY! GO AHEAD AND FIRE-…ON SECOND THOUGHT, I THINK YOU CAN ALREADY TELL! JUST LOOK AT ME! YOU CAN LOWER YOUR WEAPON! WOOOO!...BECAUSE I'M A GHOST! WOOOO! THAT'S JUST SOMETHING WE DOOOO!"

"HEY! I KICKED THE COFFIN TOO!" Dimitri shouted towards Bentley.

Bentley gave him a scathing look before returning his attention back to his conversation, "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?...I HEARD NOTHING!...OH! THAT! OH YEAH, THAT WAS JUST ANOTHER VOICE HERE ON THE OTHER SIDE! WOOOO! HE'S A REAL JERK! WOOOO!"

"Hokay shady lady," Dimitri said, talking to Penelope, "What's the dice?"

"You're going into the generator," Penelope said simply, "the cooling fluid is potent enough that unless you swim up and directly touch the lava, you won't be burned."

"Why must Dimitri go swim in the fluids? Sounds more like you trying to cook me."

"Trust me, the fluids **will **protect you."

"Can't you just blast away, y'know, bomb voyage?"

"No," The Panda King said flatly, "This looks to be of the highest quality of blast glass, far superior to current market trends. If we were to merely pile our efforts in one area…"

"Lots of flash, no crash," Penelope finished.

"WELL IT DOESN'T EXACTLY-…JERK!?... JIM MORRISON!?" Bentley exclaimed, "I DON'T KNOW, HE'S ACTUALLY A PRETTY BUSY SPIRIT I-…WHY…UH…WHY HERE HE IS!!! JIM!..._**Uh, hi…I'm Jim Morrison, how's it going…Of course it's me!...Why my name's Jim Morrison if my name's not Jim Morrison, so there....**_Wow really_**, **_chapter leader? That's, _**I mean when has Jim Morri- I mean, I, when have I ever lied to you!...Well for instance, boy do I miss doing…whatever it is I-**_"

"Jim Morrison's a dead rock star," Penelope said helpfully.

"_**ROCK AND ROLL!!! Boy, do I miss doing that stuff, that and sticking it to the man…Yup, rock and roll and sticking it to the man, those sure are my favorite things… Except, I'm dead now…Totally sucks.**_"

"Why must I skedaddle whilst you cools your footsies here?" Dimitri asked flatly.

"We need someone to go underwater and tap on the glass," Penelope said, becoming flustered by this dawdling, "We've out fitted your gear to get the readings so we'll know where to blast. C'mon you're the only one with scuba gear,"

"Hey, you can go, take gear, is so easy peasy for me that you have it in a snap."

"Dimitri, look at me, do I look like the scuba type."

Dimitri did look, long and hard, and the revelation was a shocking one. Penelope's skin was a light, smooth, easy going shade of lavender, whilst the gear was a mixture of vibrant orange and murky green. Then add in the overalls, the gloves, that horrible turtleneck, and that, ugh, **bandana**. No! He would not allow it.

"Hokay," Dimitri agreed, heartbroken by the horrible image of that terrible, tacky disaster, "Hokay, I'll do it…for the art, for _Le Fashion!_"

"Your sacrifice is endearing," The Panda King said, rolling his eyes, and retuning them to stare at the giant tube.

"Gee, what a hero," Penelope added sarcastically.

"Yes, I know," Dimitri agreed, wiping away a tear from his cheek, "I know…" With that our purple hero (the iguana, not the koala) took off like a streak of lightning (okay, not nearly that fast, but I think you get the idea) towards the generator's maintenance hatch. He threw open the hatch and flung himself inside, receiving his last comforting words.

"_**Lennon! What do you want him for?! I'm Jim Morrison for crying out loud!**_"

With that done, Penelope joined in with Panda King on staring at the glass tube. They even saw Dimitri swim up and tap the glass. Unfortunately, they also saw that he wasn't the only one in there.

That's when Penelope shouted, "LOOK OUT!"

* * *

The informant smiled as she waved good bye to Dr. Burger and his ghost busting task force. Once the doctor heard about "the ghost" he and everyone left. That is everyone except Silver.

"Soooo…" the repair girl began, walking over to Silver.

""Soooo" what?" Silver shot back.

"Soooo, whatcha doin'?" the girl continued, rounding Silver's desk.

"I have to watch the elevator, in case someone tries to get in or Dr. Burger needs to get in the elevator."

"How do you do that?" the girl said, staring at the desk's few buttons from over Silver's shoulder.

"Oh, I can't tell you that, it's a secret."

"Is it the big button that says "open"?"

"Oh, you got me."

"Hmph…you're right about that one."

Silver was going to ask about what the girl meant, but something came up that took her entire attention away from asking the question. Being grabbed from behind and having your head crushed in has a funny way of doing that to you.

"All clear," Suzy Q said, hiding Silver's body under her desk.

Taking his cue, Sly lowered himself from the pipes in the hall and entered the reception area.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Sly admitted, looking at the cleared out area, "Bentley wasn't joking about when he said that Burger had a thing for ghosts."

"Yeah I like that episode too."

"…Suzy, what have I been talking about?"

"Gilligan's Island, right?"

"…Close enough, you do remember where the rendezvous point is, right?"

"Yeah, sure thing, no problem man," answered distractedly, wondering if she should paint smileys on her feet or not.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Listen man, is there like a reason why you're standing there," Suzy Q asked, slightly annoyed at the fact that they are on an important assignment and Sly was just standing around and staring at her.

"Well I need to get to the sub."

"Yeah, totally."

"Which I can't do, until you open the elevator doors."

"Oh, sorry 'bout that dude…uh, which button was it again?"

Sly put his face in his hands, and on the verge of tears said, "The big one that says "open"." He could not believe Bentley would let her play such a crucial role in this.

"…Oh yeah…I guess that would make sense," she said as she opened the elevator doors.

"Okay, now this is important, once I reach the sub, I need you to recall the elevator and wait at the desk to tell Dr. Burger an alibi for his secretary's disappearance."

"Yeah, totally, when have I messed up before?"

"Ignoring that!...*sigh* Listen, if Dr. Burger thinks something's up, then he'll just send in his squad of bodyguards to come down and crush me, understand?"

"Uh, duh. I'm not a complete idiot, I think I can handle sitting at a desk."

"Okay," Sly said as he stepped into the lift, "remember, whatever you do, do not, I repeat, **do not** leave this desk, got it?"

"Got it," Suzy Q said, giving Sly a thumbs up as the elevator doors closed. She got in Silver's seat and began to familiarize herself with the desks controls, which admittedly there weren't a lot of. Sure enough after a minute or so, a red light flashed, indicating that the lift had reached sub level. She pressed a button that recalled the lift and set herself in her chair for a long wait.

Yup, just one long, **boring**, crucial old wait. That's it, nothing else. Well with so much waiting, Suzy Q sat for hours, hours upon hours of waiting. Alone, with no one to talk to, and nothing to do…Well that was enough of that garbage!

Suzy Q checked the clock on the desk and it said that it was approximately two minutes since Sly had reached the sub. Now that just **couldn't** be correct. I mean, sure, it said two minutes, but it felt like **hours **to her, and she was **way** better than any dumb old clock. Now you couldn't have a proper stakeout if you didn't know the time, so she decided that it was about time to get a proper clock with which to wait for Dr. Burger with.

Now she was **certain** that she'd be back **way** before Dr. Burger, but she felt Sly and Bentley would probably want her to be responsible and crafty. So using some desk paper and a magic marker, she wrote the words "GONE FISHING" on the paper and taped it to the front of the desk before skipping of down the hall on her quest to find a proper time piece.

Sometimes, she was so smart; she surprised herself.

* * *

"_**Lennon! What do you want him for?! I'm Jim Morrison for crying out loud!**_"

Dimitri almost laughed at that, but he was on a job, a mission, a mission to end all missions! He was going to swim into the generator and bang on that glass like there was no tomorrow!

When Dimitri closed the maintenance hatch behind him, he heard a hiss as he was enclosed in a space no wider than the booth in an average burger joint. At the opposite end of this cramped space was another pressure hatch with a slot on the side for a card.

Dimitri took Dr. Burger's card out of his mask before placing it upon his own face. After sliding the card through the slot, he heard a beep somewhere as the area several holes appeared along the bottom of the space. He held his breath as the yellow cooling fluid started to slowly filter in through the holes but let out a sigh as it started to slosh up around his legs. True, the cooling fluid wasn't nearly as cool as Penelope tried to imply, but in all honesty it felt a lot like hot tub water, which was a refreshing change of pace from air conditioned halls of the lab.

Once the space was filled to the top, the hatch opened, and Dimitri nearly lost his head. Once the generator was open to him he rushed forward and had to stop abruptly as he almost swam headlong into a ball of lava as it made it's way upwards, giving off thermal energy, powering the massive lab all through it's journey.

Realizing that he nearly flash fried his beautiful face, and he could totally go for not having any sort of disfigurement, it's worked pretty well all his life, had a pimple once and he didn't like it, so face melting was definitely out of the question. Taking care to keep in mind of his surroundings, Dimitri swam out into the generator. He couldn't really tell from the outside, but from looking at it on the inside, the generator was a lot wider than he'd expected.

Deciding to showboat just a little before setting to work, he swam up and faced his friends on the outside. He waved to them, intending to do a few tricks before knocking about on the sides. It was this decision that saved his life.

While looking at the others, he could see the Panda King's get quite a shock on it and Penelope shouted something he couldn't make out, but from her pointing he knew it was coming in from above. Looking up, Dimitri swam to the left just in the nick of time as a chick-bot swam down like a shot, with enough force to rip a bus in half. Ignoring her, Dimitri chanced a glance upwards and saw that there were three other girls quite a ways up from him, all raring for action, and not the fun kind. Bentley would later theorize that they were put in place after the key card was stolen.

Returning his attention to the first girl, Dimitri looked down at her with just enough time to see her slam her fist into his gut. If he were on dry land this would've knocked him flat on his butt, but as is, it knocked the air out him. If she'd stopped there, Dimitri would've admitted to be just business, but she grabbed him by the throat and held his harpoon hand at the wrist, clear of aiming at her head. Then she started to squeeze, now that was just mean.

Dimitri was in hot water (I'm referring to his current situation and not the fluids), he was losing oxygen and there was no easy way of shooting out of this. His vision was starting to blur and he had energy enough for one conscious action. He did his best to aim at one section of the tube, and, being a somewhat lousy shooter at bank shots, pulled the trigger praying.

The harpoon volley singed off one side of the generator, then another, then another, and after nearly hitting a wayward ball of lava, sunk straight into the small of the chick's back. The sudden amount electricity arcing through her system royally disoriented her, so much so in fact that Dimitri was able to push her off of him. The effects didn't last long however, and the girl became more than aware of the situation, fortunately however, Dimitri was just that one step ahead of her and cranked his gun to full blast before placing a well deserved blast right in her gob, frying her circuits.

Not wanting to go through a repeat of that little ditty, Dimitri looked up at the others who were bearing down on him like bats out of hell. He smiled however as perfect opportunity number one presented itself. Taking careful aim, knowing he had one shot at this, Dimitri closed one eye, squeezed the trigger and fired.

A smug grin spread across Dimitri's face which the girls could not understand. Obviously he had missed, he didn't even aim at them, in fact it looked like the blast was headed towards a lava ball that was on it's way down. Once the blast hit the ball, it caused a bright explosion. This was quickly followed by several smaller balls that were sent in all directions, against the glass, into other blobs, and, most importantly, melting clear through the girl-bots that were swimming smack dab right next to the original ball.

Unfortunately, Dimitri's victory was short lived as his binoc-u-com crackled to life once more.

"Hey Dimitri," Penelope said over the mike, "Get a move on, Bentley says that we might have some company."

Great, he thought, I am so tired of running around. I wish I had a cushy job that involved nothing but sitting and doing nothing.

* * *

I am so tired of sitting and doing nothing, he thought. The Guru was hiding above the pipes waiting for Dr. Burger to show up and meet the "ghost". In all honesty, he didn't even really think this plan would work. First of all, the ghost was made from a sheet, sticks, mud, grass, and bones, all cured from Dr. Burger's very own garden. Secondly the bones they got didn't even look like they'd fit together properly, and thirdly, well to be perfectly frank; you'd have to be a complete idiot not to see the string tied to the bones that held the whole jumbled mess together. The "ghost" looked more like the world's lousiest piñata than a visitor from the other side.

His ears perked up when he hear massive movement coming towards his position. He swiftly used his binoc-u-com to swiftly whisper the signal to Bentley. After that, all he had to was wave the ghosts fragile arms about in what he hoped to be a somewhat spooky fashion.

Dr. Burger hurried as fast as his old legs could carry him down the hall. This was the event of a lifetime…if it was real. And even if it wasn't, well he had quite the surprise in store for the man in the mask, like Old Man Williams in the supposedly "Haunted" Carnival, tch, Ghostly Gardner his right foot.

When he rounded the corner, girly guard squad in toe, he could hardly believe his eyes. "Can…you…dig it?" he said almost breathlessly as he slowly stepped towards this magnificent visitor from beyond the grave. He didn't touch the floor and there were no strings holding it up, very early on indications that this either a guy with a really good shtick, or a real honest to goodness spook. Now since he didn't have gold doubloons or farm land from which he could be scared off of, not to mention he was downright hopeful, he was more or less inclined to give this guy the benefit of the doubt and not shoot first and ask questions later.

It was time to begin the test; a gauntlet of challenges and experiments fraught with many dangers and perilous pitfalls. Well, perilous to anyone pretending to be a ghost anyway. With it's many dangers the test made sure that if it was a question of whether or not the one under observation was dead, it wouldn't be a mystery much longer. Imagine Ice Cube's acting career after "Are We Done Yet?"…yeah, that dead, scary isn't it?

And the test started as such; Dr. Burger turned to his guards who were carrying his equipment for and asked for his first and most trusted of all ghost hunting instruments, the pointy stick. Taking the trusted tool and jabbing the ghost twice in the side, hard, before asking, "Hey man, are you, like…dead?"

"YES! I AM DEAD! WOOOO!" the ghost shrieked in a nasally yell, well actually it was just the grapple-cam hidden inside the ghost's skull, (shh! Don't tell Burger, it's a surprise. ;-) )

"…Okay, cool, groovy, listen then you won't mind if we try the next test," and with a snap of his fingers, he summoned his favorite bazooka, he could tell it was his favorite because it had tiger stripes painted on it. "Okay man, now I've dealt with enough dudes in costumes, so are you seriously a ghost?"

"YEAH SERIOUSLY! GO AHEAD AND FIRE-" it was at that moment, the Guru, who would have surely died decided to whisper a much needed heads up, "ON SECOND THOUGHT, I THINK YOU CAN ALREADY TELL! JUST LOOK AT ME! YOU CAN LOWER YOUR WEAPON! WOOOO!"

"...You do have a point there, but what's with you, like, I don't know, ending every sentence with, like, a long sounding "o" 'n' stuff?

"BECAUSE I'M A GHOST! WOOOO! THAT'S JUST SOMETHING WE DOOOO!"

"Oh totally, so what is-"

"HEY! I KICKED THE COFFIN TOO!" the ghost shouted in a completely different voice.

"…Whoa what was that man?"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"The thing with the coffin, that totally didn't sound like you."

"I HEARD NOTHING!"

"Dude! You were the one who said it."

"OH! THAT! OH YEAH, THAT WAS JUST ANOTHER VOICE HERE ON THE OTHER SIDE! WOOOO! HE'S A REAL JERK! WOOOO!"

"Wait, I can talk to other people? Dude, that is so cool!"

"WELL IT DOESN'T EXACTLY-"

"Yeah dude, I totally wanna talk to someone else, you're kind of a jerk."

"JERK!?"

"Yeah actually, I think I want to talk to my old pal Jim Morrison. Yeah, get me Jim."

"I DON'T KNOW, HE'S ACTUALLY A PRETTY BUSY SPIRIT I-"

"Do it or I'm going to totally shoot you with the 'zooka."

"WHY…UH…WHY HERE HE IS!!! JIM!..._**Uh, hi…I'm Jim Morrison, how's it going?**_"

"Are you the real Jim Morrison?"

Bentley was sure he'd gone through this somewhere bef- oh! That's right, Christmas at the mall back when he was nine, that poor, **poor** mall Santa, having to put up with all of Bentley's nonsense, then Murray right after him, who, might I add, had beans for lunch…that poor, **poor **mall Santa.

Anywhosits, Bentley went through the motions and said, "_**Of course it's me!**_"

"It just sounds like you're the first guy with a different tone of voice."

"_**Of course it's me!**_"

"Dude, I was the elected leader of my local chapter of Mensa, I know when someone's trying to lie to me."

"Wow really_**, **_chapter leader? That's pretty, _**I mean, uh, when has Jim Morri- I mean, I, when have I ever lied to you!**_"

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"_**Well for instance, boy do I miss doing…whatever it is I- ROCK AND ROLL!!! Boy, do I miss doing that stuff, that and sticking it to the man.**_"

"OH MY GOD, JIM! Dude, you are like, so totally dead man! Oh god it's been like forever since we talked man. Dude, are your favorite things still rock and roll and sticking it to them man?"

"_**Yup, rock and roll and sticking it to the man, those sure are my favorite things.**_"

"Oh dude, those are totally still my favorite things too."

"_**Except, I'm dead now.**_"

"Oh yeah…that does suck. Oh dude! What about Big Brother and the draft?"

"_**Totally sucks.**_"

"OH DUDE! I was just, like, totally thinking that, like, just the other day. Man they totally suck. Anyways, uh, listen Jim, that one jerk that was on earlier said that you were like really busy 'n' stuff, but could you like do me a really big favor, cause you're totally cool, you are cool right? Could you, like, get John Lennon, please?"

"_**Lennon! What do you want him for?! I'm Jim Morrison for crying out loud!**_"

"I know, I know you're totally my buddy and all it's just that, well, I want to know what it's like on the other side."

"_**Well I could tell you that, I'm dead too.**_"

"Yeah but, I just really wanted to hear it from one of The Beatles."

"LOOK OUT!"

"Whoa, who was that, sounded like a chick."

"…_**Janis Joplin.**_"

"Are you sure?"

"_**Yes, why? I take it you want to talk to her too?**_"

"Now c'mon Jim don't be like that it's just that, wait. Janis Joplin? Just how many dead rock stars do you have over there?"

"_**Well it's just that-**_"

**BOOM!**

That was quite unexpected, for both Dr. Burger and The Guru (yet not for the ladies, they were in guard mode; level two, no emotions allowed). For some reason, there had to be one, the grapple-cam's self destruct had activated and blew the ghost to smithereens. The Guru was positively perplexed, it was way too early to blow up the ghost, they couldn't have possibly planted the explosives yet, Murray couldn't have shaken the floor staff that quickly and well frankly everything about the situation was now fubar.

Meanwhile on the ground below, Dr. Burger stepped forward and sifted through the remains, finding, aside from sticks and mud, half a melted speaker, some burnt wires and the burnt muzzle of the grapple-cam's gun. Someone had lied and cheated him, he was going to do something about that. Then the Guru saw a change come over the man. The hunch in his stature became sharper, the clench in his fists became tighter, and the face had become something new, not furious or angry, just cold, calculating, unflinching, uncompromising, and utterly heartless. It was a disturbing sight to see.

Gone was the lax man of science. This was the man Clock-la hired to be one of the fiendish five. This was Dr. Burger, the **real** Dr. Burger, the revolutionary, the anarchist, the truly infamous madman driven not by power but by belief in what he was doing was right, and be damned any fool who would dare undo his plans.

He closed his wizened eyes and began to think, putting pieces of the puzzle together in his mind, factoring in every single clue and hint. Then he opened his eyes, looking about as if he'd woken up. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a microphone, pressing a button on the side. "To all my beautiful ladies," Dr. Burger said, his voice suddenly audible throughout every corner of the massive lab, "Please make your way to the main floor and deal with the intruders there. We are under attack by the infamous Cooper Gang and there's not a moment to lose. Also, I want you all to know that it has been a pleasure working with all of you these long years, and I wouldn't have lived my life any other way. Thank you."

"There are intruders on the main floor?" one of the guard said.

"Yes," he answered tiredly, before pulling the inquisitive guard into a deep and passionate kiss. Breaking it the doctor whispered, "I love you."

She hurriedly uttered the sentence back, genuinely meaning it, as did her sisters all around.

"Listen," said softly to his guards, "make your way to the main floor and see what you can do. And if you fail…well I just want you guys to know that I'm proud of you, all of you, and I'm glad that you just try your best."

"What are you going to do?" another guard asked.

"To the Yellow Submarine, one of the Cooper Gang is there."

"Then we should eliminate him!" said a shocked guard.

"No, I want to talk to him," said Dr. Burger putting his hands in his coat pockets, slowly walking towards his destination, as if he had all the time in the world, "…Oh, and ignore the koala on the pipes, he'll just stall you."

At this, the Guru's heart nearly stopped. The ladies looked up and stared him dead in the eye before hurrying off to get to the main floor. There was nothing he could do, the ladies were too heavy for him to lift or move mentally, and there was no way he could mentally control a machine. All he could do was head towards the rendezvous point and hope that the others were having more luck than him.

* * *

Murray was not having much luck at all. After Dr. Burger made his announcement over the speakers, all the girls chasing him started to make their way towards the main floor. What's worse was that they'd split off into groups to cut him off and stop him, so they no longer one single force to contend with. Bentley couldn't possibly have blown the generator, he needed more time, and all it took was three or more to do away with the plan.

So Murray, spinning as fast as he could and used the aboriginal ball form to get to the main floor's entrance, breaking down wall and smashing through floors to get there before the surging masses. Once there, it didn't take long for the opposition to start coming out of the wood work.

Murray now stood alone, going toe-to-toe with twenty or so chick-bots, with more on the way. The group moved forward towards the double doors, walking in waves of four, shoulder to shoulder. Murray ran forward and tackled one to the ground, creating a sort of domino effect. Leaping to his feet, he turned and slammed the nearest standing enemy into the wall, ripping off her arm and using it to club others. He was going strong until two had slipped by and were heading to the door. He chucked the limb at their legs and tripped them up before delivering a devastating thunder flop. Getting up and turning around, he was stopped dead in his tracks as one girls slammed he fist into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He was then lifted up by his neck and slammed down onto the ground. He was then kicked to the side and stomped on by several more girls as the others continued their march unimpeded. He tried to get up, but his enemies just kept kicking the snot out of him, knocking his feet out from under him.

This was it, he thought, if they were not stopped, they'd kick him to death. On the ground, pain coursing through his body, his skin bruised and his ribs starting to crack, his only regret was that he wasn't strong enough to stop them from getting to his friends.

"HEY!" Shouted a voice from the back of the crowd, "THAT'S NOT COOL!"

_**PTEEEW!**_

Suddenly, two laser beams shot forward, mowing down the procession, slicing through them like a hot knife through butter. Murray disbelievingly picked himself up off the floor. Staring at the felled crowd, his eyes trailed the mass of artificial bodies back to his standing hero, her favorite color was turquoise blue.

"Hey Murray!" Suzy Q shouted cheerfully, running over and leaping to give him a huge hug. "Check out what I found in the old automotive lab!" she turned around and strapped to her back was a teddy bear shaped book bag, crudely stuffed to the brim with car batteries. Several wires lead from them and hooked into the back of her neck. "Isn't that just totally groovy?" she asked, turning around to look up at Murray.

"OH RIGHTEOUS!" He agreed, a grin spreading from ear to ear, "That is so awesome!"

"I know! Isn't it?!"

Suddenly a great clamor was heard down the hall as the next group made their way to the doors. "C'mon!" Murray shouted, catching his second wind, "Let's thump these chumps! FOR JUSTICE!"

"Oh totally," Suzy Q agreed.

Murray grinned as the next group walked around the corner, and smashed the first enemy he could with a brand new look in his eye. Cute, strong, had laser vision, "groovy", Murray was in love.

* * *

Bentley worked as fast as his hands and wheels would allow. Things had taken quite the turn for the worst. Cursing himself under his breath, Bentley placed his explosives as quickly as possible, checking and rechecking the readouts on his computer screen. Thanks to him, there was no room for error, nor did they now have the time to work with the patience and steadiness such a delicate operation would require. 'Thanks to you,' Bentley bitterly thought, mentally kicking himself once more, 'If only you'd been more careful.' He'd seen plenty of explosions in his time, but for some reason the flash from Dimitri shooting the lava ball caught him off guard and he accidentally hit the grapple-cam self destruct.

"What's so bumpity jumpity about where the boom booms go?" Dimitri asked, doing his part, placing bombs exactly where his binoc-u-com told him.

"This is caliber blast proof glass," Penelope said distractedly, using her chopper to fastidiously place Bentley's bombs along the top of her target zone.

"Yes, yes, I know, but why here and not there?"

"Because," The Panda King said patiently, setting up rockets along the ground, making sure they're targeted correctly and the fuses were the proper length, taking care not to disturb the delicate ring of black powder that would be key to the mission's success, "When the explosions go off, the glass would simply shift the force of the blast to a low pressure area and stand firm. However, if the explosions are everywhere and the glass has nowhere at all to shift the energy to, then it shall crumble and fall, like a dying leaf on a tree in fall."

"Oh, I woulda said, "Cause I say so, nyeh!" But your way was smooth move too."

"Okay," Bentley said, placing the final bomb, "I'm done, you guys?"

"And…check," Penelope said, flying the chopper towards the window exit point.

"I am done," The Panda King said, checking the last fuse.

"Wait, wait, gimme a sec…aaaand show time baby!" Dimitri said with a grin.

Bentley looked the explosives on the generator up and down one more time and said, "That's it, let's get out here. Murray!" Bentley shouted the hippo's name over the binoc-u-com, "we're about to set off the bombs, head towards higher ground."

A large smacking sound was heard, like someone was being punched, then Murray answered, "Sure thing pal."

After the Panda King ignited the powder, the four saboteurs rushed to their exit point.

In the original plan, Penelope had the time to airlift them to their window to escape, now however, well…

"We don't have the time," Penelope said bluntly, staring up, the distance between their location and escape seemed so much further now that they were in a rush.

"Here," Bentley said thrusting the last of his bombs towards the Panda King, "There might be guards up there. Go on ahead and take care of them."

Not the one to be fooled so easily, the Panda King saw the writing on the wall. He took a moment to stare Bentley dead in the eye, there wasn't even a shadow of fear anywhere to be seen in them. "It has been a pleasure to work with you Mr. Bentley," the Panda King said,

"Get going will ya?"

The Panda King then stuffed his mortar to burst, with the last of the explosives, rocket and bomb alike, and lit them. Placing the open end of the mortar on the grounds, he climbed on top of it and when the explosives inside went, he rode it like a rocket to the window and leaped through it before the mortar blew.

"What did he mean by that?" Penelope demanded.

"Nothing, he's just nervous. Take Dimitri and get through the window."

"What about you, eh bro?" Dimitri, asked, "C'mon, no turtle left behind!"

"The helicopter won't handle our combined weight."

"Bentley…" Penelope said, unsure, as she tied the helicopter line around Dimitri and herself.

"Don't worry about me," Bentley said with a grin, "I'm a pretty smart guy, I've already got it all figured out, I try to leave one or two tricks up my sleeve."

"…Okay," she finally answered, lifting her and Dimitri up towards the window.

In the old days, Bentley would've fought like crazy, done anything in his power to keep from dyeing. But now, dyeing like this, making sure the others were okay, now he had no problem with it at all.

Bentley had been lying, he had no plan, and there was no great scheme to be pulled. The helicopter couldn't support the three of them, there was no time for the chopper to come back and get him, his chair's jump boosters didn't have nearly the power needed to jet him up there, the generator was about to blow, and the floor's exit had just become flooded with an army of killer robots, all looking for blood. It was his fault that they all couldn't escape and that they had to rush, he saw no reason to drag the others down with him.

"UUTU HA HUMA!" came a shout from up above.

Bentley looked up and gave a sigh of relief. Poking his head out of the window was none other than The Guru. Bentley had almost forgotten that the window was the rendezvous point. He heard the Panda King shout something about lifting him and The Guru's eyes began to smoke over. Bentley felt his chair begin to shake a whole lot when he looked over his shoulder to see a stampede of androids rushing towards to him. He turned up to The Guru and shouted, "FORGET THE CHAIR!"

It's a strange feeling, being lifted by something you can't see. For some reason, Bentley always imagined a giant, invisible hand that came down and plucked things into the sky, boy was he wrong. Bentley felt like he was being enclosed in cellophane or just wrapped very tightly in a sheet, yet it wasn't too tight, nor did it hinder his breathing, in fact he felt fine, well, fine aside from the fact that he was being lifted in the air by some invisible force. The Guru lifted Bentley so quickly that he actually beat Penelope and Dimitri to the window, and was able to see the generator just as it blew.

It was beautiful, it was everything that Bentley imagine and more. The powder had already burnt up and lit the rocket fuses. The rockets lit up and went on through many different paths that had them spinning, looping and crisscrossing every which way, but the important factor was that when they hit, they hit at **exactly **the same time. When the rockets blew, they created a multicolored ring of chaos around the top of the generator. The rockets were just the start however, within mere milliseconds of their detonation, the top row bombs lit up. What came next was a domino effect of destruction, as row after row of bombs exploded, one ignited row blasting and igniting the next, which in turn ignited the next and so forth. Bentley smiled, for the briefest moment, he saw through the smoke and saw the glass' surface shift, rippling like the surface of a puddle in the rain, then.

_**CRASH!**_

The lava lamp generator exploded, sending glass and cooling fluid everywhere. Within seconds the entire floor became flooded with cooling fluids and several gobs of lava inside the generator land on the walls and floor, destroying many inventions. But it wasn't quite over yet, a great groan was heard and the volcano, no longer held back by the pressure exerted by the blast proof glass or the cooling fluids, started to pump vast amounts of lava into the lab. Within a day, the whole lab will have become flooded with magma and the whole thing would sink and melt into the volcano.

"Bentley…" Penelope said sympathetically to the turtle on the floor, "Your chair is…"

"Gone," Bentley finished, "I'll just have to make a new one, and it's no problem, really. 'Sides, it's not the first time I've had to deal with someone having to carrying me around. Speaking of which, Panda King? Would you please?"

"It is of no consequence," the bear answered, picking Bentley up and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Iya meetea, hana hoo?" The Guru asked.

"The plan is," Bentley answered from his perch, "to wait for Murray and Suzy Q. Once they get here, we leave, _through the front door_."

"No ice climbing through the garden?" Penelope asked hopefully.

"No ice climbing period."

"Oh, praise the gods!" Dimitri shouted.

"After that, we wait for Sly to contact us, then this operation is officially over."

* * *

Dr. Burger calmly walked through the halls of his laboratory for the last time, reminiscing about all the times he'd had here, the timeless memories. He remembered bolting this one door with his bare hands, had a gunfight along that corridor, retraced the scars from falling down this set of stairs, or the bruise from that sock in the jaw from whatever superhero it was at the time, recounted all the times he'd said, "You'll pay for this!" or, "The world is mine! Mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!" He laughed at that, he couldn't believe he'd said all that hokey garbage, he did. The real funny thing, everything he'd done, **everything**, had been for the benefit of others.

He wasn't surprised in the least when the danger lights around the lab began to flash and that the loud speaker, in his own voice, began to say that the lab was in imminent danger. He lip synced perfectly with the old recording telling of a massive generator leak. No surprise there, although he did slightly hasten the pace of his saunter.

He knew this was coming. He may not have acted like it, or even hinted towards it, but he felt it coming, he felt it coming long before the Cooper Gang, long before Clock-la and her promises, heck, he felt it even before the Berlin wall came crashing down. He did however feel a slight pang when he saw that Silver was no longer at her seat behind her desk, for over twenty years now he's told her to call him by his first name, and for over twenty years she failed him. Poor dear, probably smashed up and stuffed under her own desk. The "GONE FISHIN'" sign was a nice touch though, if he wasn't in such a serious mindset right then, he might've fell for it.

Dr. Burger gritted his teeth and readied himself for what he might see. He reached into his lab coat for his weapons, his plated metal shock gauntlets, and pressed the button to go down. For the final time the lights in the glass elevator came to a glow, and he thanked them, in all of memory the bulbs had to be changed but thrice. As the lift went down, he looked up at the lab, **his **lab. He looked at the sturdy pipeline that lead from the lab to the volcano, filled to the brim with lava. It was this that had kept the lab going for so long, now it was what would kill it.

His heart was breaking, and it, the lab, was dying. This wasn't just his lab, or his current base, or even just a retreat, it needed, no, **deserved** more honor than that. It was his **home**, and it was dying. It was still beautiful though, years of constant maintenance and tiptop custodial service had worked wonders to hide the scars that time should have wreaked. He marveled at it's splendor, it still looked pristine, elegant, proud, and it had long since **earned** the right to look that way.

Even then, in it's last breaths, it still dutifully served him to the top of it's abilities. He smiled as the garden section of the lab began to clam up. The entire garden section ran independently from the rest of the lab. Soon it would sprout propellers and deliver the entire mass covertly through the water, 'til it reached it's destination: an island that to this day is still uninhabited. There, the creatures in the garden would live out the rest of their days in peace, they would not share the fate that would become the rest of the lab. Suddenly the view of the world outside disappeared as the lift made it's way inside the Yellow Submarine. He felt the lift lurch as it came to a stop.

The doors slid open and darkness greeted Dr. Burger. From the light that filtered in from the lift's lights very little could be seen through the abyss. He took a few steps in, the lift's doors shutting behind him, and he became encased in darkness. He didn't bother turning on the lights, he knew where things were, not mention he didn't want to go at it with whoever his guest was, at least not yet.

Rooted to the spot, Dr. Burger called out into the shadows, "Okay dude, you can come out now. I'm not in the mood to fight yet."

…Nothing. Dr. Burger knew that place well, there was a million and one places the guy could be hiding, and that's with the lights on.

"Fine man, suit yourself," he padded his way over to the massive screen at the other end of the room, "Here, I wanna show you something." With a snap of his fingers a series of controls popped out of the wall below the screen. Working swiftly, the doctor typed in a series of commands rather than simply issue them by voice command, this was a special occasion after all.

When he was done, there was a picture of himself appeared on the screen. But it wasn't him, it was him over forty years ago, back when he was in high school and in his prime. The difference was shocking, he was, well, so young back then; he stood tall instead of slouching, not to mention he was stacked higher than flapjacks, a real bruiser, not the spaghetti armed stick in a lab coat he was today. In fact the only thing that could connect the two was, greyness aside, the big, strong and healthy manes of hair that sprouted from their heads.

But for all that, there was one major, **truly** major, difference between the two, and if you saw the picture, you'd see it too. In that photograph, nearly fifty years old then, Burger looked happy, genuinely happy, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Truly happy, and Sly, who was incidentally in room by the way, could see why.

Standing next to the sixteen or so year old Dr. Burger was a girl, a girl with an angel's smile. She was a squirrel. She was a little on the boney side, and definitely far away from that perfect hourglass figure, but Sly could tell that wasn't why Burger chose her. And it wasn't her hair neither, which was a dark brown and tied into a tight bun at the back of her head at the moment. No it was those eyes, and that smile. Her eyes were the color of golden honey, but it wasn't just that, they were hopeful, happy, they made you want to protect them, because in those eyes was a golden brown paradise. The smile was priceless, it embraced you, moved you, and reminded. It made you think about all the good things in life, and made you something more, it made you want to stand strong, to walk tall, to be a better person and make all those around you better for it. The girl wasn't a goddess, no, nor was she angel, but from the picture Sly could tell that she was a gift.

"Who is she?" Sly asked, his voice slowly shifting through the inky silence.

"Was," Dr. Burger corrected.

The statement and it's sharpness startled Sly, "…I'm sorry. Who was she?"

"You know, you're the first person I've ever told this story to? She was my high school sweetheart, dude. You know how it goes man; meet a girl, ask her out, give her the jacket, the usual cornball story."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, her home life wasn't exactly too stable, see? Mom on pills, Pop on the bottle, the two constantly going at it. Anyways, the only thing that really got her through it was her older brother, really kept her together, y'know man? Well he hits eighteen and leaves, joins the army, figures it'd be a quick stint in Korea, go over there, maybe learn a trade, come back, y'know? Meanwhile, back on the home front, things are still sorta rocky at home, sure we were going steady at the time but it was still pretty rough on her. Anyways, she gets a letter one day, saying that her brother wasn't going to come home from Korea, well she just loses it, can't keep it together, and I, well…I guess I just wasn't enough. Anyways, she loses it and…well let's just say I don't want to get into the details. Anyways, after she, well _you know_. That was it started."

"…What started?"

"…Hmm? Oh, like, all this really. Gimme a sec." He typed in more commands and the screen went dark and the lights went up. Dr. Burger turned around and saw that Sly was standing just a little ways to the left of the lift's entrance, Dr. Burger walked right by him and didn't even know. "It was the first **real** time I had started to suspect that there was something wrong with America, really wrong. And since then, since I started building doom rays and death stations, things have gotten worse."

"Really? Doom rays and death stations make the world worse?"

"No, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the youth of America, maybe the whole globe. I was raised on the belief that with a little grit, determination, and good old fashioned can-do American spirit, there was nothing that couldn't be accomplished, I mean we've gone to the moon and back for pity's sake! True, even before then I had the wool pulled up from my eyes and saw the truth, that the world doesn't really work like that and that there are a ton of bad dudes who really get a kick out of hurting people and would rather choke than just go with the flow and let others be free, but still. Check this, forty years ago the youth of America was ready to fight, **really** fight, tooth and nail, against practices of government they didn't believe in or want, and against a war half the world away that none of them asked for. And they did, they fought, and I was there with 'em, they may have lost, but they still fought. But in my years, I've seen a real decline in that spirit as time went on. Gone are the days that American youth would gather in mass to oppress tyranny and wrong doing by their own government, no, the good fight's been abandoned. Nowadays, rather than protecting the rights and lives of their fellow man under the ideals of peace, all kids these days care about is what color the next brand iPods come in, or what sparkly vampire their hoodie supports, or from what third world country which actress is adopting a child from this week. They say that with the internet, this generation is more in touch with the world around them, but from all I've seen, Myspace, blogging, and, bleh!, Chocolate Rain, American youth seems more alienated and shut in than ever. I mean, c'mon! Seriously! What has happened to the spirit of America?!"

"…So you're answer, to the decline in the spirit of American youth, is to turn to a sociopath like Clock-la?"

"No man, you don't get it. First of all Clock-la came to me, second of all you have no idea of the things she has in store for us. You, me, the whole world is on the precipice of a great revolution that will truly unite us all as one man!"

"Yeah, with a raving lunatic at the reigns. Gee, somehow I can't see that one blowing up in all our faces."

"Be sarcastic all you want, it just proves that you really aren't seeing the big picture."

"What, that Clock-la wants to rule the world and is willing to torch it in order to get it? I mean, if she's out for this big ball of peaceful, fun, killing free revolution, why does she have you making ray guns, huh?"

"DUDE! Have you not been paying attention?! History tells us that time and time again that there are always jerks that will stand in the way of peace just to fuel their own greedy ends."

"And it also has a lot of punks who maim, murder and pillage, in the name of peace and justice."

"Dude! You are so not listening."

"No, you're just not saying anything worth hearing."

"Hmph, then I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree." And with that, Dr. Burger turned around back to the controls and hurriedly typed in a series of commands. Sly nearly lost his balance as the sub lurched forward and started to move, the sub's gravity now pulling towards the front.

"What are you doing!?" Sly said, confused by this turn of events.

"I have sent the Yellow Submarine on a collision course with the mouth of the volcano."

"Are you crazy?! You'll die too!"

"Yes, but without you in the picture Sly Cooper, yes I remember who you are, the entire Cooper Gang will be emotionally crippled by the experience. Of course, even without you, your compatriots will still press on to try and defeat Clock-la and her organization, but by then Bentley will feel guilty over your demise and become a self destructive emotional wreck. His uncertainty and constant self doubting will lead to a slip up in his plans, a single mistake that will end with another team mate severely injured, or worse, dead. From there, it is but a matter of time before the Cooper Gang will fall apart entirely, long before they even come close to subverting Clock-la or her plans. And yes, dude, I've suspected for quite some time that I might be crazy."

Well Sly had enough of that, he was going to knock the old loon into next week and steer that sub out of there. Running towards Dr. Burger, the momentum gained from going downhill helping him, Sly lunged at the old man, hoping to tackle him to the ground. Unfortunately, Dr. Burger was swifter than first perceived, when he side stepped the airborne raccoon, Sly felt a sharp pain in his side before hitting wall.

When he got to his feet, Sly looked to his hip to find a dart jutting from his side. Pulling it out Sly turned to look at Dr. Burger who smiled at him from several feet away, his hands returned to his pockets.

"Okay dude, the drug is totally something of my own making," Dr. Burger said, answering the unasked question, "It, like, affects the afflicted's visual perception. While it is only temporary, I'd be more than glad to totally tell you how it messes you up."

"What did you-"

"Seven minutes before, like, we totally crash!" said an electronic Dr. Burger voice over an unseen intercom. Sly couldn't believe he almost fell for it, Burger was stalling for time.

"Oh darn it!" Dr. Burger shouted, "From the look in your eye, it seems you caught me red handed." Sly was about to ignore his nonsense when he noticed something truly weird. When Dr. Burger talked, his lips were out of sync with his words, like a bad film, the sound was in real time but the world was going slow.

Suddenly, Sly heard swift footsteps while he only saw Dr. Burger begin to slowly move towards him. He saw the doctor remove his hands form his pockets, wearing some type of strange metal gloves, when Sly felt an indescribable pain in his chest. He then felt himself being thrown several feet away whilst he saw Dr. Burger punch him in the chest. When Sly hit the floor and twitched a bit he began suspect that he might have been electrocuted.

Sly closed his eyes, the images gone due to lack of light, right now they couldn't be trusted, besides it wouldn't be the first time he's had to work in the dark. Sly jumped to his feet as the sound of swift feet came towards him. Sly took his cane in two hands, taking a baseball swing towards the noise and...

…

Nothing, Burger must've dodged the blow. It was an unnerving feeling, not knowing when or where the enemy could strike, surrounded by darkness. Without a doubt it was the worst game of Marco Polo he'd ever played. There! A sharp intake of breath coming from behind him. Sly crouched low and swung the cane around cracking it across the side of Dr. Burger's coat, rats.

"Almost got me there," the doctor chuckled malevolently.

This was impossible! There was no way that Sly could even hope to beat Dr. Burger like this, certainly not in five minutes. Then it hit Sly, he didn't have to be the only one that to fight in the blind. Reaching into his side pouch, Sly pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it on the ground, the entire area quickly became cluttered with a thick gray smog.

"Hmph, smoke bomb," Dr. Burger muttered unimpressed, "like that's original." The doctor pressed a button on the side of his sunglasses, the world going from grey to a vibrant mass of greens and blues in classic "Predator" style. The doc turned around with just enough time to see a yellow, orange, and red Sly run towards him and crack the cane across his face.

Down but not out, Dr. Burger, whose clothes insides were always lined with a fine coat of rubber, made sure that neither his exposed feet or tail were touching the ground before touching one of his gauntlets to it, electrifying the floor. Sly clenched his teeth and nearly bit his tongue as the electricity painfully arced through his body, Dr. Burger removed his hand from the floor and smiled when he heard a thump from Sly landing after being launched by the shock.

Getting to his feet, Dr. Burger felt severely disoriented, it had been quite a while since he'd needed to use the heat vision. He heard the tapping of a cane on the floor, and almost immediately as he instinctively turned towards the noise, he knew he shouldn't have, because he was smart enough to know a trap when he saw one. Seeing the green and yellow cane on the floor, Dr. Burger heard the shift of feet as Sly tackled him from behind. Falling forward, the doctor closed his eyes, knowing what was to come. He landed on his own gauntlets and…

_KZZZRT!_

The power of the shock launched the two off the ground and backwards, landing in a heap. Sly pushed Dr. Burger off of him, worried since he wasn't moving. He felt relieved as he felt the rise and fall of the lion's chest, but gritted his teeth when the sub informed him that they had three minutes to go.

Feeling his head start to clear up Sly opened his eyes and stared at his hand. Wiggling his fingers, he found his vision to be back up to real time. Getting back on his feet, Sly rushed over to the controls. Staring at the keyboard and the other various buttons, knobs, switches, and levers, Sly soon realized something very important, a vital component that could make or break this entire operation, he had never piloted a submarine before and had no idea how he would do so now. But, thankfully, he knew someone who did.

"Bentley?!" Sly said exasperatedly, switching on his binoc-u-com, "Bentley, are you there?"

"Hey Sly," Bentley said over the line, "We're just waiting on you to get to the boat. How much longer do we have to wait?"

"Bentley, get on your computer and help me pilot this thing!"

"Wait what's going on!?"

"I'm still in the Yellow Submarine, Dr. Burger's set this thing up for a suicide run and is taking me along for the ride. I got three minutes before we crash into the volcano!"

"Okay, give me ten seconds. Murray! Get me the ThiefNet computer…Okay, should have visual about…now. Stare at the controls." Doing as he was told Sly looked once more at the buffet of switches and knobs. "Okay…this is relatively simple pull back on the blue lever." Looking for the lever, he found it above the sub's speedometer. "Not that one!"

"There's only one blue lever Bentley!"

"Look again."

Sly searched the panel again and found it next to the sub's radar. Sly reached out and tried to pull it back, but it wasn't moving. He put his full weight on it, it wouldn't budge. "It's not moving," Sly informed the turtle.

"He must've locked you out of the controls."

"So what do I do?"

"Give me a minute."

"I don't have a minute!"

"Okay, check Dr. Burger, he couldn't have been in the sub when he sent all those robots on us."

Sly rushed over to the lion's unconscious body and started rummaging through his pockets, asking, "Just what exactly am I looking for."

"Take out the devices and look at them, I should be able to tell what they do by looking at them."

"Like, two minutes to go dudes," The sub informed them as Sly quickly sifted through Burger's stuff, "AC starting to, like, totally bum out."

"Wait stop! It's that one."

Sly looked in his hand and found himself to be holding a weird looking microphone, his palms sweaty from the rising temperature. "Are you sure?"

"No questions Sly. See if he has a screwdriver."

"Hold on, I just pulled one out." Sly picked the tool up off the floor and waited for further instructions.

"Unscrew the casing."

Sly did as such and soon found himself to be holding a small mess of wires center around a plastic skeleton.

"Okay, there should be two wires running the length of it, one black, one yellow."

Sly looked but he couldn't, oh! If it were a snake it would've bit him. They were nearly tucked behind the plastic frame work.

"Find out where they hook into along it's base and switch 'em."

Sly ran his eyes along their course. He found their jacks switched what they were hooked into.

"Okay, rescrew the casing, and find the mike's charger."

Closing up the casing was easy enough, but, "Bentley, where would the charger be?"

"Check the control panel."

Sly did, he looked the entire panel up and down. He was about to give up when he saw it; a hole, far too large for a wire jack, too small to be a cup holder. Sly put the mike in and found it to be a perfect fit.

"Okay Bentley, what now?"

"…"

"Bentley?" Sly checked his binoc-u-com, but only got static.

"Thirty seconds 'til impact dudes," the sub informed him all too cheerily.

"Oh, come on Bentley, no! I need to know what to do! BENTLEY!!!" Then suddenly…

THUMP!

Sly fell forward and hit the wall as sub lurched to a sudden stop. Then Sly felt a change in momentum, as the sub began to move in full reverse. Sly heaved a great sigh of relief and suddenly felt very tired. He swaggered over to the room's massive bean bag chair and slumped down in it. He closed his eyes as he began to hear Bentley's faint shouting over the binoc-u-com.

"Yeah Bentley…I'm here."

* * *

It was a strange feeling. After Bentley piloted the sub up, crashing through the ice, I didn't know exactly how I felt. Getting out of the sub, breathing fresh air seeing the sun for the first time in days, it was like a dream. I was so detached from the world that I didn't feel tired hauling Dr. Burger up from the sub, and I barely registered the biting cold. But no matter where I go or how far I get, there's always that special someone who keeps bringing me back to reality.

Carmelita was there, shouting orders at the top of her lungs and showing up in full force, after the party was over, as usual. I left a calling card on top of Dr. Burger as he began to stir, he'd be awake soon and I knew Lt. Gronk and his ape mercs would have a real handful trying to put him back down. Burger would be taken care of well, safe from Clock-la's clutches.

Unfortunately, I found myself to be in real hot water as well. I was in the middle of the Antarctic, had no means of transport, exhausted, hungry, with one of Interpol's top guns mad as hell and at my heels. Luckily, I just happened to know someone, who happened to know someone, who happened to own a pirate ship I helped him steal this one time. I met up with the gang, got on the boat and we set sail once again.

Something strange happened as we all stood at the aft of the ship, together, staring back at the shore, with Carmelita shouting and firing wildly into the air. We didn't know what it was, but it was infecting everybody, it'd be days before anyone recognized what it was. It was something that was missing, something I'd gone so long without, something we almost had back in London. We'd gone out, done the impossible, faced death and laughed at it, hard. And to top it off, we'd even added one more member to the gang. It was a sense of accomplishment.

Of course, true to form, the moment was ruined when Dimitri farted and asked what was there to eat, but we forgave him after he told us of an idea he'd had. And to be honest his plan wasn't half bad. Tired of the cold, we set sail to the sun soaked shores of Fiji, at Dimitri's request.

After a few weeks of sand, surf, fun and sun, we were ready for the next mission.

* * *

And PRESTO! A brand spanking new chapter and in a little over two weeks! Am I good or what? It's amazing how something so trivial as school can hinder one's writing progress. Anywhosits, it's time to say hello to those fast and fabulous folks at home who took the time to review this little ditty and give 'em well deserved round of applause (I'm not kidding, start clapping):

**sotnosen93:** Well, I did actually think about putting it in the humor category as well. But looking at the reviews of some of the stories in supposed humor category, if found that stories labeled humor tended to attract a certain brand of people as well as deter others. Not to mention labeling it as humor, I felt, sort of betrayed the core of the story since there are parts in it that do get very sad, serious, or emotional. Unfortunately, the next villain is not a girl, but I do hope you'll tough it out just the same, so that you'll see what happens, as you can already see, I don't intend for the villain roster to be a total sausage fest. Oh! And what's wrong with karaoke? I happen to like it.

**Green Phantom Queen:** I'm glad you feel that way, although I don't intend for you to wait that long again (hopefully). Why thank you, I was actually worried that I might've under done the fight scene. On the subject of the Beatles references, I felt the story needed more music references than just The Yellow Submarine and The Mighty Quinn. Oh, and the Clue references, well, I love to play clue (I always got Prof. Plum).

**The Good Thief:** Actually, it was a reference to Enter the Dragon not The Last Dragon, but I'll forgive ya 'cause your funny and you remind me of warm toast, (mmmm…toast).

**Wolvmbm:** Well, there you go, I hope that the grand plan, with all it's handstand and hijinks, was well up to snuff and was quite a sight to see. Thanks for compliment.

Okay folks, it's been a hoot, a real treat, BUT!, it's about high time to say goodbye. So until next; if you're ever feeling sad or alone, just remember what George Washington said when he jumped out of a plane without a parachute;

"**AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!**"

Good night everybody!


	12. Bolder Than Bullets

HELLO WORLD! You are waking up with Mikey C and **The Bee.** Here on WXRT, **The Undertow!** Bringing you the best songs, station to station, coast to coast. For those of you just tuning in, that was that old goldie Chapter the Eleventh, in which our heroes dye, become ghosts, and begin their glorious military career.

* * *

During our sabbatical, we got Bentley a brand new chair and pumped Suzy Q for all the information she could give us. Clock-la wanted those weapons to be mass produced and put in someone's hands, but who's, and why so many at once? Suzy Q's info, coupled with our own investigations, soon lead us to the lair of the notorious General Red.

This self styled Napoleon started out small in the glamorous world of organized crime. This simple, but violent, friend of a cousin started out doing small jobs, but do to his ferocity, ruthlessness, and imaginative techniques with an icepick, soon found himself to be given the rank of underboss.

However, not finding the life of urban crime to his liking once his organization ruled vice, the prestigious crook surprised his superiors and underlings alike by enlisting in the armed forces. Due to similar attitudes, techniques and approaches similar to those that had allowed him to rise so quickly in the underworld, it surprised no one that he would soon find himself with the title "general" under his belt, as well as a whole army of soldiers loyal to him alone.

But due to his efficiency and brutality in combat, he soon quashed out all enemies there were to be fought. So, tired of sitting around and doing nothing, he turned renegade mercenary, many of those under him making the same decision as well. It was all he dreamed of, with no one over him, he worked for himself and was able to fight for whoever he wanted and whenever he wanted. He and his army of mercenaries soon became feared all over the world. Entire countries would throw battles based on only rumors that the opposition had hired him. To this day, he has never been defeated.

With a reputation like that, it's no wonder Clock-la recruited him to train recruits from the cult and meld them into heartless killing machines. Nowadays he's holed up in a customized army base on the coast of Gabon, Africa, in a place known as Bullet Bay. He's on the verge of something major, something that'll sky rocket his career and the cult's efforts. Too bad for him, we decided to come calling.

* * *

**Sly Cooper**

**And The Gang**

**in…**

_**Bolder Than Bullets  


* * *

**_

**The Gabon coast, Africa 6:23pm**

"I do not understand," the Panda King said.

"What's not to get?" Penelope said, her rubber gloves squeaking vigorously as she worked. Presently the entire gang had assembled to see the amazing spectacle that was occurring in the ship's kitchen.

"The plan **is **fairly simple bro," Dimitri agreed on the edge of his seat, a bag of popcorn clutched in one arm and a large coke in the other, "Is so easy, only **I** could screw it up…Wait, take two, did not sound cool."

"Not to mention that the task is absolutely essential to the mission," Bentley said, "We are going in blind, we have no recon, no reports, and no informants. Without any of that stuff we'll be in hot water. We need an inside man and pronto."

"That needs no contest for validity," The Panda King agreed, his eyes squeezed tight so as to prevent chemicals from getting in them, "What I do not understand is this. I am to go undercover, become a spy, and provide tactical information, essential to the success of our. In all honesty, it is a job that is renowned for danger, and the only more distinguishable quality than it's difficulty is it's low survivability rate, correct?"

At this, everyone agreed

"Then, explain to me why that I, a man with a daughter to provide for and a life to lose, have been elected rather than our newly acquired, structurally superior and fully repairable android?"

The statement did not receive a positive review.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Murray said, his mind officially blown by the statement, "Isn't that a bit extreme."

"Hey man," Suzy Q cut in, very offended, "just because I'm new to this whole, like, hero thing, doesn't mean I should be thrown into like, that one thing, it's like a plant but all spiky."

"Thorn bush?" Bentley offered helpfully.

"Naw."

"Briar patch?"

"Yeah, totally, that's the one."

"That's the same as a thorn bush."

"Whatever."

"You have to see it from our viewpoint," Penelope said, steering the conversation away from painful and pointy shrubbery, "First of all, does Suzy Q even look close to the sort who'd stand firm in the military."

The Panda King would've debated this, but at that moment the cat in question was intently examining her naval (AKA: the belly button) lint.

"Couldn't you reprogram her?"

"HEY!" Murray interjected sharply.

"Theoretically, that could work," Bentley mused, "But it could permanently corrupt or damage other aspects of her current AI. But more to the heart of the matter, she without a doubt makes the absolutely best pancakes I've ever had, and I just don't want to risk losing that."

The Panda King would've debated the importance of pancakes to a life, but he's **had** some of Suzy Q's pancakes, and to be honest, they are well worth the risk.

"The secret," Suzy Q said with a grin, "is blueberries and love…oh, and like sugar dude, like **so much** sugar dude. I mean, you just would not **believe** how sugar I put in those things. Oh, and syrup…and butter…and vanilla, look! I'll just write the recipe."

"Alright," The Panda King conceded, "But why not Sly or Murray, as I recall, one section of the Thievius Raccoonus that was once in my possession held quite a bit on the subject of the art of disguise."

"Where do you think this little scheme came from?" Sly asked, his eyes trained carefully on his work.

"Not smart or practical," Bentley stated flatly, "Trust me, from the buzz I've been getting online, we dealt a heavy blow to the cult, really shook things up. Now more than ever Clock-la's calling out for our severed to be served up on a platter."

"And not one of the nice silver ones either," Murray cut in, "that are polished with silk napkins and linen frills. No, the nasty, left out in the rain, bent, spit on, rusty ones that poorly maintained, skuzzy, so called "family" owned restaurants use."

"Anyways, the cult's taking an extra hard look at any new comers, especially anything close to Sly or Murray's build. Trust me, you'll do fine."

"And…," Sly started, removing his rubber gloves which covered his hands as he assisted Penelope, "I think we're done here."

Penelope and Sly stepped away from the Panda King, the former of the two fetching a mirror. The transformation really was spectacular, the demolition expert's pristine black and white fur had been dyed to a fine oaken brown, it was an entirely new bear standing before them.

"So," Bentley began, "Are you ready for duty, Private Grizzly?"

The Panda King took a moment to look his self over in a mirror handed to him by Penelope. The transformation was a tad bit alarming, true the dye was only temporary, but it did not lessen the shock he received from looking in a mirror. Setting the mirror down, The Panda King set the mirror down and turned to Bentley, "Indeed."

"What was that, maggot?" Sly asked with a laugh.

At this, even the Panda King caught a grin before saying, "Sir, yes sir."

* * *

A few hours later, The Panda King, Bentley and Sly found themselves on the edge of a thick jungle, and they did not like what they saw. The trees surrounding the impressive Bullet Bay had been clear cut and leaving a barren field to run across with no cover to work with. One would need quite the two step to get around the searchlights that roamed the field from the various sniper towers planted along the inner rim of the base's fences. Even if one were to accomplish that, they'd still need to contend with the barbed wire the snaked along the top of the fence, which itself stood only a few scant feet from being eye level with the sniper towers. Or they'd at least take the time to cut a hole in the fence and pray that no one finds it. However, cut or climb, whatever one would choose, they'd need to do it in three milliseconds, otherwise they'd find out why they heard buzzing coming from the fence as the very same electricity arcing through the fence would then be surging through their own body.

Sweet and simple, they weren't going through the field.

"This is crazy," Sly muttered miserably from his hiding spot in bush, "You mean we came all this way, just to be stopped dead in our tracks at the gate?!"

"It is an impressive security array," Bentley admitted.

"Shall we contact Ms. Penelope for an air lift?" The Panda King queried.

Thinking on the question, Bentley looked and then relooked their surroundings before answering, "No I think there's a clearer solution here. Look." Bentley pointed further down the jungle edge towards a steeply elevated ridge that sat on the edge of fence. Unfortunately where it was positioned was right in front of a sniper tower. Even still, there was still the matter of height to contend with.

"Bentley," Sly said, seeing the plan's flaw, "The hill only goes halfway to the fence's top. Even with the added boost, not even I could hope to make the jump."

"Hmph, you're not the only one who can jump you know," Bentley said slightly offended, "You two, wait here."

Several minutes later, Obdikarin, a zebra, all the snipers were, looked wistfully looked out over Bullet Bay. It was an impressive sight. AA guns, sniper turrets, the firing range, various obstacle courses, weapon packed store rooms, heck, Bullet Bay was even privy to it's own little airfield, all neatly laid out around as small bay, and protected by naval (not the bellybutton) attack by two heavy artillery bunkers at either end of the bay's mouth.

Obby, as he was called by his former American associates, was a local boy, all the current staff at Bullet Bay was. However, unlike most other soldiers here at Bullet Bay, he served under General Red long before Clock-la and all her nonsense came calling. He didn't like her, she was about as straight as a crocodile smile. From the first time he saw her in passing on her first trip to the bay, he could tell she was about as kind as a spool of razor wire, and twice as twisted. He also remembered back to when he could voice his opinion as such. But now, with the base pumped to the brim with zealots, you never talk bad on the gal, not unless you're okay with getting your throat slit in your sleep.

Things were changing, and not for the better. At first, when Red started talking to Clock-la, Obby stayed out of loyalty because he was one of Red's favorites. Now he was in too deep, there was no running now, most of the original guys had been muscled out by these crazies, and those that saw what was coming got away while the getting was good. There was one way that he could make a break for it; formally resign to Red himself, he was a good man, it'd work. But once he was out, there was no guarantee what the cult's ever expanding batch of psychos would do. He'd have to sleep on it before doing anything too drastic.

Oddly enough, his opportunity to sleep came a lot sooner than expected. Several hours later, when the dawn shift would come to relieve him of duty, he'd inform his replacement that the last thing he recalled was feeling something slightly sharper than a bug bit hit him square in his back, and then he was off to dream land.

It seemed a lot shorter, at least it did to Bentley when he was further away. There was something wrong, and it wasn't like he suddenly became aware of the problem as he downed the sniper. No, he knew what the problem was and where it came from, his chair. This new chair was essentially like the old, true, there were a few improvements here and there, but it was still basically the same machine.

The problem was his butt. The seat's cushion was new, made of the same stuff, but still new, and it wasn't trained like the old cushion. It was far too firm, it didn't cup or embrace like it was supposed to, and as a foreseeable result, it caused his butt itch horribly. The worst thing was that there was no one to confide such discomfort to, the sentiment would totally be lost on The Guru or Panda King, and anyone else on the team, well, he just didn't want to put up with the laughter. He was still getting flak for the "honey" thing.

He'd just have to grin and bear it for now, he was on the job. With the upgrades to the chairs boosters, it was no small feat for him to sail over the fence and into the sniper's nest, he would not put up with a repeat of Antarctica if he could help it. Once his wheels touched the tower's wooden floor, he made sure to take steps to remove his dart from the guard's back. Any evidence of their presence this early on in the mission could prove to be disastrous.

Once that was done, he boosted down to take a closer look at the fence. It was chain-link, held up by posts staked at various intervals. Bentley could also tell, from the constant buzzing and the way that the grass touching fence had a tendency to turn brown and smolder, that the fence was indeed electrified.

He went over to one of the fence posts to find that it, like every single other post, had it's very own power box. Taking out his handy dandy screw driver, Bentley took a peek inside, finding, to his satisfaction, that the system was relatively simple, he'd have no problem disarming it.

So as stealthily as he could, Bentley made his way along the fence to the point closest to Sly and the Panda King's hiding spot. He disengaged the three closest power boxes before signaling the two over, now the worst they'd feel would be a tingling sensation that'd mess their hair up a bit, which he didn't feel too bad about (hey! **YOU** try being bald from birth and let's see how quickly **your** sympathy runs out).

Seeing the turtle's signal, the two began their trek through the meadow, which, let me tell ya, was **no** picnic (ugh, that was almost as lousy as the pickle joke). It was a tense hike, search lights aside, with as much debris as there was left after the trees were clear cut, it was practically impossible to make no noise that'd alert the snipers on the journey across. And that wasn't the worst part.

Remember that feeling you get when you see flashing red and blue lights in your rearview mirror, you know, that all too sickening feeling like your gullet just dropped down past your crotch? Yeah, that had nothing on the feeling Sly had when the Panda King kept him from stepping, heel first, on a good old fashioned landmine. Despite that moment however, and several others following roughly the same formula, by some grace, their own or from up above, they made to the fence. Sly almost began to scale the fence when it started up a rousing chorus of that old favorite, "Touch me, and I'll shock the $#%! outta you!"

"Bentley, what gives?!" Sly said, slightly alarmed, "I nearly got lit up brighter than a Christmas tree!"

"Sorry pal," the turtle apologized, "the boxes must have an automatic cut on timer." Bentley repeated the operation, and handed Sly a pair of wire clippers before the raccoon went on his way up to the top with his cane in his teeth, cutting away a section of barbed wire that would be practically invisible to the untrained eye. Within less than a minute, the other two had scaled the fence, the very same fence that'd been stated as impervious to any stealth assault by it's owner.

"Okay, what's the plan?" Sly asked, relieved now that the hard part was over.

"To pass off the Panda King as one of Red's new recruits," Bentley began, "We need to make him look like he's supposed to belong here."

"Okay, no problem. All I need to do is steal a uniform in his size and lead him to the barracks, right."

At this Bentley snorted trying to stifle his laughter at the absurdity of the statement, "Hardly."

"It would stand to reason," The Panda King mused, "That an organization like this would keep records of who's supposed to be on or off this base."

"Daily updated, top notch, and heavily encrypted records," Bentley corrected, "Trust me, getting past this fence was the easy part, the night's just getting started.

"Okay," Sly consented, "Then what is the plan exactly?"

"Sly, I need you to head up to the rooftops, scout out buildings that have radio antennas, satellite dishes, anything that'd look like a hub for heavy communications."

"Oh gee, I'm up to perform and my make-up is all askew."

"Just get to work."

So Sly set off, looking for a means to reach the base, which was nearly as easy as it sounded. There was a lot of guard activity, not long after he'd made his way away from the other two, the sound of marching from guards seemed inescapable. Around almost every corner he came in close proximity to a wildebeest toting a flashlight and a very unfriendly rifle.

It took some doing, but after ducking in and out of every barrel, under every jeep and out of every shadow, Sly finally found some crates in an area with low enough guard activity for him to climb up without getting caught. Overjoyed at finally catching a break, Sly rushed towards crates and practically jumped onto the building's roof. Unfortunately, this is one of those rare moments in Sly Cooper's life where failed to look before he leaped, because the action brought face-to-face with a rooftop guard…least it would have if the guard hadn't been looking in the other direction.

The guard in question, a hyena, heard the sound of heavy feet, as if someone had just landed on the roof right behind him. The guard spun around but saw no one behind him. Looking down, the guard saw his shadow in the moonlight. He became alarmed when he saw that it was taller than it should be and holding a cane, so he swirled around again, weapon drawn (and colored too!), ready to knife the chump who was playing this cornball Bugs Bunny bit with him, but once again he turned to find just himself, the air, and the fly on the wall. He turned around again to look at his shadow, finding everything to be as it should, which was the problem. In one more effort, the guard moved to put away his knife but instead flipped it around in his hands and stabbed backwards hearing…nothing. He was alone. Freaked out and insecure about his safety, but alone. And to pile more good news on, all his movement had kicked up dust that was rest on the shingles, so logically he had to…

"ACHOO!"

"Gesundheit."

"Thank you…hey, WAIT A MINUTE!"

The guard swiveled on the spot once more and actually got something this time. From all the sudden action on one single spot, the dire need of roof repair, and just plain being crap outta luck, the shingles under the guard suddenly gave way and slid off the slanted roof, yanking the guard right off with them. From that day forward he would swear, up and down, that Bullet Bay was haunted by a ghost who tears up roofs and has impeccable manners.

Sly stared down at the guard, and sighed when the guy just ran off with his face fine shade of "scared as hell", in lieu of blowing the whistle on him. He had no idea what story the guy was gonna tell, but he knew for a fact that if you tell a story about a time when you nearly wet your pants and don't know why, unless you have at least one or two good buddies, with sparkling reputations for honesty, to back you up, there was no way anyone'd believe you.

Well, getting back to the reason why he was there, Sly used his binoc-u-com take a look around. Anything with heavy communications equipment huh? So far he'd narrowed it down to two out all the buildings in the bay. One was the general's home, at least that's what Sly suspected, I mean, when was the last time that military fashion favored Spanish villa architecture? So going on a slightly educated hunch, Sly stared at the other building, the dull, grey one with the relatively large radio tower jutting straight out from it, and pressed a small, unseen button sewn into the inside of his mask. There was a distinct ping sound as the location was marked as an objective by a holographic marker.

"Bentley?" Sly whispered, over the binoc-u-com, "Can you read me?"

"Loud and clear partner," the turtle whispered back.

"Yeah I've just-"

"Pinged the communications hub, we know. We're already on route, we'll leave the door open for you."

On the ball, as usual, Sly thought, "There seems to be a lot of guard activity, any guesses why?"

"Not at the moment, hopefully we'll get our answers when we're at the com area."

Several minutes later, Sly found himself leaning against the wall of the communications, worried as all get out. He made it to the building without a hitch, finding the door unlocked, as advertised, and it was empty of guards to boot. There was one big change in plans though, no Bentley or Panda King. To further the problems, the inside of the place looked trashed, messy, there'd definitely been a fight, but no fighters. The base was on high alert to be sure, but the guards were more centered around the bay's waters and barracks, not here where there'd clearly been some true action. The situation was very alarming to say the least.

Sly was relieved to hear the faint whir of wheels and turned to see Bentley and a much different Panda King, duded up in army gear, round the corner. He was astounded that they'd acquired fatigues in the bear's size, and even more amazed to find out that the two were not alone.

"What happened to "keeping a low profile"?" Sly asked as his colleagues drew near, pointing an accusing finger at the unconscious hyena slung over the Panda King's shoulder, Sly could practically hear the flap of wings as imaginary birds twittered around the lump on the guard's head.

"It was unavoidable," Bentley said, "**Some** people can't be bothered to hide."

"For the sixth time," The Panda King began, rolling his eyes, "The barrel was too small, there was no way it'd hide me."

"You didn't even try!"

"Because we'd already been spotted."

"You mean **you'd** already been spotted, I was hidden."

"So what are we going to do with him?" Sly asked, interrupting the debate (that's a fancy word for argument).

"There's no choice, we'll just have to stuff him in the ship's brig."

"Wait, we have to carry him all the way to the ship?"

"Don't worry, I'll give you a hand."

"Which roughly translates to, "I'll give you a hand up until the hard parts"."

"Well that's awfully cynical."

"But true."

"No comment. Okay, what kind of lock are we dealing with here?"

"The worst kind, unlocked."

At this Bentley did a double take, "Unlocked? What do you mean unlocked?"

"The answer's pretty straight forward."

"That is highly unlikely," The Panda King put forth, "This is a highly guarded facility, outfitted with the latest weapons and filled to the brim with highly trained soldiers, they wouldn't leave a door unlocked."

"I didn't say they were the ones that left it unlocked." Seeing the confusion on the two's faces, Sly lead them to the door of the building and opened it, showing them in to the jumbled mess strewn around the walls, desks and floor.

"Well that's new," Bentley said staring at the aftermath of chaos.

"Most intriguing," The Panda King agreed setting the hyena on the floor to stalk through the mess, whilst the turtle was interested in the door knob.

"There are unique scratches around the keyhole," Bentley said, "and the knob has a dent in it. This indicates that someone tried to use a lock pick device, fouled up, and resorted to rough play."

"The window locks have received similar treatment," The Panda King said examining them, "The guards were attacked on all sides."

"So what's new?" Sly asked.

"These newcomers represent a shadow element, and that is most alarming," Bentley said, looking away from the knob to talk to the raccoon.

"Why? It was Clock-la goons taken out."

"But we don't know for what reason," The Panda King said sternly, "For all we know, it could be internal politics."

"And even if they are another group opposing Clock-la," Bentley said, jabbing his thumb towards the mess around, "With such sloppy tactics, they could blow our cover."

"So do we abort the mission or what?" Sly asked, unsure of what way to go.

"…Well…it'd be a shame to come all this way and not take a peak. I'll see what I can gather from the computers here. In the mean time, I'll need you to plant this bug at the top of this building radio tower. No reason why we shouldn't hear what they're saying, right?" Bentley handed Sly a small green box in the shape of the turtle's logo.

"Trying to grab some attention?" Sly jabbed joking, pocketing the device.

"So says the man with his on the van and plane."

"Ooh, got me there."

Sly then retreated to the outside and looked for a means to scale the building. This proved easy enough when he found an old telegraph pole with the wire still attached to the building. It was short work for Sly to scale the pole, and ever shorter work to scamper along the wire. Now atop the building, Sly circled the radio tower, which took up most of the roof, finding no maintenance lift or ladder. But when was the last time I needed one of those things, he chuckled to himself.

The legs of the tower were too wide to wrap his arms around, and the bolts and rivets were too small and smooth to make effective foot holds. He checked and rechecked the tower for any means to scale it, finding none. The support beams that crisscrossed the legs would certainly do, but they were too high. If I was just a bit taller, Sly thought, that's when it hit him. Walking over to the lowest hanging beam, Sly stood on his toes, so sharply on the points that most première ballerinas would take notes, stretching out the cane above him as high as it could go. Running the hooked end of the cane along the beam, Sly kept pulling down until it finally caught, allowing Sly to pull himself up.

With that done, it was no seat for Sly to scale the tower. He was so at ease that he even found himself whistling a tune as he planted Bentley's at the tower's summit. From there he took a look around the base. Bullet Bay was certainly large and impressive, it was definitely a force to be reckoned with, most would've given up at the fence. However despite all this, Sly simply scoffed. In his experience, the bigger the dragon, the bigger the underbelly, the easier the target, he wasn't worried.

Sadly enough, the universe had yet another one of those little fat kid moments (chapter eight has a full description of such moments). Sly was about to begin his descent when he noticed something strange. From his height, he got a better view of General Red's two story home, and noticed a very odd occurrence.

He didn't believe his own eyes at first, but, using his binoc-u-com, he enhanced his view of the situation and found that he'd suspected right, in the house's garden were two pickup trucks, side by side, steadily going up and down in mid air. Sly zoomed in further to see that the two were attached by a thick metal rod and that the was a small workout bench in between the two. Sly zoomed in one last time to see that on the on the bench was none other than General Red himself, his upper arms pushing up and down on the metal pole, as his two lower arms steadily pumped two barbells that had to weigh at least fifty pounds.

The realization was a disturbing to be sure. Sly never believed the rumors of ants lifting things fifty times their own size, but he had to face hard facts, General Red was bench pressing trucks for crying out loud. Sly thought it best to take a picture, snapping a shot whilst the general switched weights, the barbells to the upper arms, the trucks to the lower. Sly wiped away a cold sweat before going down, praying silently that when the chips were down, **he **wasn't the one that had to fight General Red.

Back on the ground, Sly was amazed at what he saw when he entered the building. He hadn't been gone much longer than three minutes or so, and in that time the Panda King had completely turned the place around. The papers strewn about had been picked up, the upturn desks had been righted, and the disheveled book shelves had been straightened out, the work was deserving of applause.

Sly was on the verge of such applause, when Bentley wheeled over and shoved several papers into Sly's gloved hands. The weighed the raccoons hands down slightly as he flipped through the top few, seeing nothing but names. "What's this?" Sly asked slightly confused.

"Names," Bentley answered bluntly.

"Obviously, names of who?"

"Names of all the new recruits Clock-la's army."

"All these people are the new recruits!?" Sly exclaimed, dismayed.

"No, those are just the recruits with the last name starting with an A."

"Wait, these are **just** the "A"s?"

"Most of them.

"M-most?...Wow, this is not good."

"That's an understatement. Luckily, I've hacked the system and The Panda King a.k.a. "Pt. John Grizzly" is officially a part of the list."

"So," The Panda King began, righting the last fallen chair, "should we leave and return?"

"If by "we", you mean Sly and myself, then yes. You on the other hand," Bentley said handing the Panda king a single sheet of paper containing a list of information, "you have to get down to the docks and quick, the recruits are coming in **tonight**. Get down there, wait for the boats to arrive, blend in with the crowd, your barracks build is number eight, and your name is?"

"Private John Grizzly."

"Good, anything else you need to know about yourself is on that piece of paper."

* * *

The Panda King sat in confusion and disgust. He was sitting in a storehouse along the dockside, hiding, waiting and reading. It had been an hour or so since he'd waved off Sly and Bentley as they carried the unconscious guard off with them. He made his way to the storehouse, not being noticed mostly cause he stayed in the light and didn't try to look like he was hiding and more like he was mad and ready to rip someone to shreds. If anyone was confused by his actions, they weren't going to be the one to ask the questions why, it's a personal health and safety thing. He found the store house unoccupied and settled in to wait for the boats, reading his story.

Apparently "John" was once a mild mannered pizza delivery boy, which he found absurd, not due to his size but because he didn't like pizza. However, his whole world was changed after his dog, who apparently was named Scruffles, bleh!, got hit by a bike. Though the accident, didn't kill the dogs, he'd have to walk with a limp from that day forth. "John" cursed and hated the world that had dared to turn his beloved pooch into a gimp, so he joined the Clock-la cult to change the world. Ugh! The Panda King was mortified by the idea that this was the story he'd have to stick to, he'd seen bumper stickers with more thought and meaning put into them.

The Panda king was shaken (but not stirred!) from his miserable review of his lousy life's story by a great commotion from outside. Checking his watch, he saw that it read midnight. He looked out the window see several impromptu check in stations set up along the docks and the boats carrying the recruits came into the bay. There were three of them, all made of metal, they were painted red and black. From what the Panda King could tell, they seemed to be enlarged versions of the warships used by the ancient Egyptians, minus the sails, one major difference being that there was a golden statue of Clock-la affixed to the ship's bow.

The ships were soon moored to the harbor, and several walkways appeared from them. After that, a seemingly endless tide of recruits exited from them, throwing the dock into chaos. Many crowded the check in desks, some stood to the side to stretch from their journey, talk to friends, or just smoke a smooth, relaxing cigarette, and many, probably half the contents of the boats rushed to the latrines to take a good pee.

Moving from his hiding spot, the Panda King left the storehouse unnoticed. With the chaos and commotion, it was no problem for him to slip into the crowd unimpeded, despite his size. Several times he looked around to see if he was being targeted by the guards, but they were busy sorting out a few rabble-rousers and troublemakers, he was home free. The only problem he did have was that there was one skunk woman with frizzy who kept staring at him. He was fairly certain that she was following him, because no matter where he was in the crowd, she was well within eyes sight. He started to sweat, thinking that she'd seen him leave the storehouse, and if that were true, things could get **very** hairy, **extremely** fast. However, since she didn't blow the whistle on him when he went to check in, he eased up a bit and just slotted her as one of **those** sort of people, Clock-la** did** have a knack for attracting the mentally unstable.

He was relieved to find that the barracks were not mixed sex, so he was able to find sanctuary from the strange staring woman. He asked around to find out that equipment and whatnot would be handed out tomorrow, due to the lateness of the hour. So with that set in place, the Panda King flopped down upon his bunk, and closed his eyes. He heard some of the guys in the barracks stay up a bit to introduce themselves to one another, but he didn't care to listen too much. He stayed up for a while, despite his eyes being closed, constantly thinking that at any moment the base's guards would come crashing in, discovering his scam. It was quite awhile before he finally drifted off, comforted by thoughts of Jing King. His last conscious thought before sleep took him was; You're in the army now.

* * *

Here you go gals and pals, another chapter hot off the press. It was weird starting this chapter, but starting any act is always weird since I don't know where it's gonna go, it really is a surprise for everyone (including me). Anyways I gotta tell you, I'm bushed, so before we sign off, let's take a moment to say thanks to my loyal reviewers, who've put up with my nonsense and decided to say a few kind words;

**Green Phantom Queen:** Well to be honest, the youth of America thing was really just my own thoughts on the matter, I mean most kids today are so petty, selfish, emo, and drama driven, it can get to be a real pain in the ass. I really don't care for most people my age, I've made more friends out of old biddies down at the library than out of most kids at school. And to be honest, the old biddies are cooler, they tell the dirtiest jokes, you just **would not** believe. Thank you for the compliment and I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint.

**Wolvmbm:** Well I think the question of their locale is no longer a mystery. I wasn't actually going to go that direction, but trust me, this act isn't going to be nearly as Carmelita dry as the last one, she's way too important for that. And yes, the beginning is sad, but one crucial thing about Sly and Carmelita's relationship has always been that Carmelita chases Sly, always has been, always will. Any other way would be wrong, like Catwoman chasing Batman and handing **him** over to the cops, or Leia saving Han from the Deathstar, or Dirty Harry asking if **he** feels lucky, it just doesn't work.

**sotnosen93:** Well it's mostly because when you were asking for a chick villain you had the puppy eyes, but when it came to karaoke they were normal. I feel that karaoke deserves a nifty facial expression, maybe not a timeless classic like puppy eyes, but certainly something.

**The Good Thief:** I believe you mean "permission", and yes you can. Actually, I find the sentiment rather flattering, I'm honored.

Okay, okay, okay, it's just about that time again so before I leave, here's something to think on: There is no Satan, just God when he's drunk. And if God gets drunk, maybe he gets stoned. Ever see a platypus lately? I think you think he might.

See ya!


	13. Bolder Than Bullets P1

And that was Rush's "Tom Sawyer" followed by Danzig's "Mother" and what a looker she is. Heh heh. Okay, we have a full half hour of songs coming up for you on your way to work, but first, let's hear from our sponsors; Chapter The Twelfth, in which our heroes hang out in the halls, tear down walls, and just talk, talk, talk.

* * *

"Okay guys," Bentley began, his projector aimed at the wall of the captain's cabin, "We have a full schedule ahead of us, so it's best to cut to the quick." **CLICK.** Pt. Grizzly. "With the Panda King, successfully integrated as one of their own, he will be privy to information revolving around the bases goings on. However, to stay at Bullet Bay, he'll have to prove himself." **CLICK. **The wrecked com room. "From what I can tell, this incident sparked quite the fracas. Fortunately, it seems the event's been taken as a large desertion, same goes for our hyena friend in the brig. So far, no fingers have been pointed at the Panda King for any discrepancies in his story, with any luck our "friends" won't do anything more to blow his cover. Now," **CLICK.** The Fence. "So far this has been able to stop Sly dead in his tracks, last night's endeavors would've been a fiasco were I not on scene. Sweet and simple, this fence has got to go." **CLICK. **A herd of the rare African herding rhinos. "Normally it would've been impossible for us to accomplish this, however, with the help of this local rhino herd, I think we can paint a different picture. Murray, using your "animal magnetism", I need you to get these rhinos to stampede. Really whip 'em into a frenzy, then you and Suzy Q lead 'em to straight into the fence. This absolutely important, if those rhinos deviate from the designated course, this operation's a bust." **CLICK.** The Fence. "Now, since we don't want our horned heroes to be flash fried, I'll do my part and disengage the power boxes. Logically, I won't have the time I'd like to properly disengage the boxes stealthily, so I'll have to resort to simply blowing them up, *sigh*." **CLICK.** The sniper towers. "Which, of course, I cannot do with a bullet in my head, crazy as that idea sounds, I know. Penelope, if you'd be so kind as to entertain our zebra friends with your own brand of fun, we could certainly avoid any embarrassing situations. You know, like the ones where I end up a splattered mess all over my chair." **CLICK. **The mine field. "Guru, I want you to be on standby, I'm not going to lie, there's a million and one way this operation could go wrong, having you run telekinetics should greatly improve our odds. Use some of the local mines and a little bit of imagination and I'm sure you'll do swell." **CLICK. **General Red's house. "Also, apparently from the their communications, a couple of cult VIPs are set to arrive. They're set to engage in a meeting with General Red on arrival. There's a lot of contradiction as to how long they're staying, but Sly, I need you to get in on that meeting. I'm sure _the world's greatest thief_ should have no problem doing a little bit of leg work, eh? Okay guys, let's get set.

* * *

**The Grinder

* * *

**

**Gabon coast, Africa 5:09am**

The Panda King smiled, this operation was going to be easier than he thought. Anyone else on the team could not have possibly pulled this one off. The new recruits were waken at four in the morning, allowing them, for those who were smart enough to choose to, four hours or less of sleep since their arrival at midnight. This was no sweat since he'd imposed fiercer work hours on himself in his rigorous martial arts training, frankly, four in the morning was just another old pal. One strange thing was that they were told to leave those who'd missed the bugle call alone, one guard had told them that they'd just volunteered for special training.

After that, it was off to the mess hall for whatever the cooks had tossed in a blender and called a meal. The food wasn't half bad, nothing worse than what he had in prison. The repast had those old time, soul numbing favorites; meat and not meat, the way to tell the two apart was anyone's guess.

The meal, and all it's bland, tasteless goodness, was made even worse by the presence of the skunk woman from the night before, she didn't talk to or approach him, as per the usual, but stayed within eyeshot of him. Every so often, no matter how well she tried to play it cool, he'd catch her staring at him, once again following the formula. It was during these instances when he took his turn to stare at little miss creepy that he got a chance to notice facets about her that he couldn't in the darkness and chaos of the night before. He could see that her frizzy hair was tied in a ponytail and was of a dark blue hue. He could also see that she was slightly muscular, probably worked out a lot. From the lack of apparent upper body development and the size of her thighs; he'd peg her as a runner, probably had a kick like a mule that'd probably knock down doors and most guys twice her size flat on their butts. The Panda King jotted down all these tidbits in his head, for further reference, now he knew what to look for in a crowd so he could avoid her.

Taking a break from looking at lady loony the stalker, The Panda King supposed that since he was here, he might as well get to know those he intended to dupe, beat up, hospitalize, and any number of rather unsavory things to. Turning to a mole on his left, he found out that the rodent got wrapped up in this organization thanks to his girlfriend, and had recently proved his loyalty to Clock-la by taking that very same love of his life on a swimming trip in a pair of cozy cement shoes, charming fellow ain't he? Hoping to find a somewhat more stable mentality among the base's female population, The Panda King was disappointed to find that the lady penguin who sat across from him had discovered Clock-la while in prison for failing an attempted murder. When she got out, the cult gave her the skills so that the next time she went back in, "attempted" wasn't part of the sentence.

After finishing his meal, and silently thanking the universe for the existence of insane asylums, it was off to the store houses to get one's gear. His equipment contained boots, polish, flashlight, gun, knife, Bible of The Clock-la faith, toothbrush, y'know, the usual. He was then told to stow his gear on his bunk, where he was told to file in to his platoon for training, he couldn't help but notice that the sleepers from before had done a Houdini and disappeared.

Which of course brings us to the now, where the Panda King stood side to side with a bunch of other chumps who were standing outside at the training grounds and staring at a podium. No, that's a lie, The Panda King was sure that was what he was supposed to answer if asked about what he was staring at, but he, like those who stood around him, were gazing, some open mouthed, at the real show that was taking place just behind the podium. The Panda King finally had his answer to the mystery of the missing sleepers, as he saw those who slept from his, and what he assumed to be from others, barracks tied to wooden poles. The accused were left to the classic combinations of big, mean, and violent that manifested themselves in the form of the wildebeest flash light guards. The guards had no problems with hurting violators of the wakeup call rule, and proved as such by slamming their fists repeatedly into the stomachs of said violators. The Panda King looked on, the public beatings were halted only for individuals who'd succumbed to unconsciousness or had coughed up too much blood. He smiled wryly and thought cynically to himself; well, this is certainly…_inspiring_.

The General was smiling broadly as he made his way to the training grounds. The first day of every two months was always like Christmas to him, in all honesty this was the most fun he could have without needing to smoke, raid the fridge, or cuddle afterwards. If there was one thing that could make up for all the roller coasters he'd never be able to go on due to his height, it was the first day of every two months. Once he got near Alpha Zero Company, he made sure to get "the look" on his face.

God did he love the look, if he had children, never, not in a million years, even if they ended world hunger or came up with a cure for aids or cancer, he'd never love his kids nearly as much as he loved "the look". He was a completely different person when he had "the look" on, the change was astounding. Peter Parker puts on a mask and he's The Amazing Spider-man! Ten year old Billy Batson says "SHAZAM!"; he's Captain Marvel, Earth's mightiest mortal! General Red? Well General Red get's "the look" on his face and he stays the same guy, but boy is he one mean, hard bitten, raw dog monster. When he gets the look on his face; birds stop singing, children cry, demons get their horns and sometimes, on cold winter nights, they say if you're very still and very quiet, you can hear the howling of those who "the look" is focused on, their wails carried by the wind. God did he love the look.

The Panda King got his first good look at General Red as he marched up to the podium. From the rippling of his muscles as he walked, The Panda King could tell that the hyena guards on either side of the general were really just for show. When General Red took to the stand, The Panda King took note that several wildebeest guards had quit punching the sleepers to stand at the general's side. Then something completely unexpected had happened, General Red looked down upon the troops of Company Alpha Zero, with a furious scowl that could strip paint from walls and the bark off of trees, then, and amazing as it sounds, trust me, it did happen, General Red smiled.

The general waited a few moments, basking in the mass confusion, augmented with a slight dash of fear and uncertainty. Then, still smiling, he asked, "Is there anyone who thinks that they're not supposed to be in this platoon?...Anyone?...Come on, don't be shy." Several people raised their hands, at which point the wildebeest guards took notice and quickly grabbed those who identified themselves and tied them to the posts. The recruits now identified as punching bags started to be spat upon, their guts drilled by fists, their teeth smashed, you know, the usual.

General Red loved that gag, no matter how many times he did it, nor with which batch of recruits he did it with, there was always, **always**, at least one sap dumb enough to raise their hand. He especially loved the irony of it, in the old days he was called too extreme for doing it, now under Clock-la, she constantly berates him and calls him too soft for not killing them. Now, as much as he'd enjoy simply standing there and pointing at the suckers who essentially signed their own beating warrants, he was here to do a job, and by thunder he was going to get it done.

So, pulling his face back into "the look", he turned once more to Company Alpha Zero and asked, "Now that you know the consequences for failing me, does anyone of you maggots know why you're here?"

One dalmatian, a slow learner obviously, raised his hand, "Because-"

"Trick question stupid!" the general pointed at the recruit and he was quickly seized by guards and added to one of the empty posts. "Now, anyone else want to interrupt me?...No?...Good. Now none of you idiots know why you're here, because I haven't told you why you're here. If some of you aren't the total failures that I suspect you all to be, you'll notice a few subtle differences between yourselves and the other recruits.

The Panda King did notice. All the other platoons and training circles were made up of groups of roughly twenty recruits, the crowd he stood in now, if he had to hazard a guess, would hold up to roughly a two hundred or more.

"I have read through each and every one of your files and the files of all those on base, and one thing is for certain; you **worms** are without a doubt the lousiest assortment of recruits to ever wash up here at Bullet Bay. The Glorious Lady Clock-la has authorized that I am allowed to execute each and every one of you, for…well whatever reason I think of really. Now, no matter what's running through your mush filled little heads right now, concerning this information, you should translate the message as such; you are such horrible screw ups that you turned to Clock-la and her magnificent following, and even then you were still crappy. So crappy that even she doesn't give a fart about you…well you're not even maggots, more like specks. So here's the score, I'm not gonna kill you, but I'll close. I'm gonna hurt you, I'm gonna torture you, I've got a whole theme park of horrible things I'm gonna do to you, I'll bring you real close to the final curtain, so close that you'll know hell, and the worst part is; when it's all over, you will be the most hard bitten, most strong willed, most capable, and without a doubt the **best** warriors in Clock-la's cause…**and** you're gonna thank me for doing those terrible things to you. Oh, and before I forget, from this point on, unlike the other recruits here at Bullet Bay, the next time you screw up; I ain't sending you to no post like the chumps behind me, I'm sending you there."

The Panda King looked to see where he was pointing and saw wall with posts in front of it, but with the dried blood on the ground and the bullet holes in the wall, there was no question about what happened there. The bear looked back to see the general still staring at the company. General Red waited until the crowd's full attention before breaking into a broad, toothy grin, lighting a large stogie and jamming it 'tween his teeth. "Okay kids, it's time to get this show on the road. Let's take a walk."

Then General Red stepped down from the podium then began to walk, and, at the orders of the guards who flanked him, so did the crowd. Those from Alpha Zero Company who'd been tied and beaten at the posts were cut down and limped meekly behind the procession, their black eyes and bruises swelling. They stood as prime examples of extreme lengths General Red's training intended to go. The Panda King looked around, trying to get a bearing of what direction they were going. From his observations, he couldn't gather much, but from the way some of the snipers in their tower looked at them and shook their heads in a pitying manner, he could tell it wasn't going to be good.

It wasn't until he saw the perfectly trimmed hedges did he realize that they were heading towards General Red's own home. They walked through the general's victory garden, taking care not to tromp on any of the veggies, lest they face the consequences. Soon they reached General Red's vast backyard, where the crowd was ushered onto a taped off area, which soon became a tight fit as this was the first time such a large crowd had been subject to what was about to come. However, after much hustling and squeezing, the entire company had filed into the space, allowing the process to continue.

Not being at the forefront, The Panda King easily lost sight of the short statured militant, however he did hear the signature beeps of a keypad being pressed as a code was entered. Soon, the entire taped off area began to sink into the ground, being lowered by a massive scissor lift. On the journey through the mysterious lift, The Panda King noticed several signs on the walls that rose up past them; "ROSES ARE RED…VIOLETS ARE BLUE…ALL HOPE IS A GONER…AND SO ARE YOU!", clearly the work of a master poet.

Soon enough, the lift had reached the bottom of the shaft and therefore the troop's destination. The place was a dead end except for a pair of double doors at the bottom, and in light of all the guns, bombs and cult worship, the Panda King got to thinking that there was something particularly nasty on the other side of those doors. However, despite whatever reservations the munitions expert carried with him, the crowd surged forward, forcing even The Panda King's large form forward.

On the other side of the doors was a large room that allowed the recruits and guards alike some breathing room. On the opposite side was another pair of double doors and another podium for the general. General Red walked up to the stand and resumed staring at the gathering.

"Okay kids, I think it's clear by now that there are quite a few of you in this group. Now, since I personally will be training you, I can't afford for all of you sissies to waste my time. So! Today we are going to have a little test, to weed out the maggots from the mud they feast on. Behind me is The Grinder, a hall of doom and death of my own design, it will test the most basic ability any soldier needs, the ability to survive. For some, it is your first step in your training, for everyone else it is your last. I'll be waiting for whatever sorry saps are lucky enough to make it out in one piece on the other side." And with that, General Red stepped down and exited through the double doors.

"Okay meatbags!" One of the hyena guards shouted as several more came in through the lift, "File in against the left wall. Only teams of two will be allowed to go into The Grinders at any time. You will be called up randomly as will your partner. You are to line up, double file, against the right wall and wait your turn for measurements and then to wait your turn to enter the Grinder."

This was quite the unexpected turn of events, The Panda King found himself in quite the difficult impasse. All of Bentley's fail safe plans were devised to avoid any life threatening situations in the event of the enemy discovering The Panda King's true identity, he'd never been prepped for possibility of danger before such an event occurred. To help complete the disguise, he'd stowed the binoc-u-com earpiece in his boot, so even if Bentley had concocted some strategy to get him out of this, there was no way the turtle could contact him. The Panda King had no doubt in his mind that the danger was real, from everything General Red said, Clock-la already considered this entire group to be failures and dead in her eyes.

The only plan the Panda King could conceive was the same plan all along, go along with what they say, keep a low profile, don't get discovered, and don't die. He then thought it best to get a bearing of his chances of survival in this thing. Looking around the Panda King took a quick head count, factoring in all those who'd already entered the Grinder, finding the count up to be in the neighborhood of one-sixty, considering the average training squad was usually a chalk up of twenty, he could already see this was going to be a slaughter. Twenty out of a hundred and sixty, the odds were far from good, but he was The Panda King, a former legendary member of the world renowned Fiendish Five, demolitions expert for the Cooper Gang, master and creator of the Flame-Fu martial art, perhaps that, and a little bit of luck, would be enough to see him through.

The proceedings were somewhat docile and boring, kinda like a dentist's waiting room, despite the magnitude of the situation they were all facing. This soon changed as the seventeenth pair took their turn to go. The pair was a tortoise that, from the way he was drooling slightly as he was engrossed in trying to free himself from a finger trap, he looked like he did nothing but eat, sleep, and weight lift all day, while his partner was a hare that was in dire need of a haircut and carried a burnt out surfer look on him, he too was equally stumped on the mystery of the finger trap. As the door to the Grinder opened, the body of an anteater fell out, he was covered from head to toe in deep gashes and had several daggers jutting from his back. Dead was too light a term to describe this guy's condition.

Two hyena guards grabbed the guy's body and took a pair of mops that were stowed under the podium before heading into the Grinder themselves. Instantly a wave of anxiety and fear consumed the room. The entire place filled with the sounds of whispering and panic. The Panda King stood statuesquely and chose not to become one with the rabble, his eyes darting back and forth from the guards, who were trying to reclaim silence and order, to the ones in the crowd who whispered the lowest and eyed the guards in a rather menacing manner. A shot rang out through the room and quieted all as a hyena guard fired a shot into the ceiling using a service revolver.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" he shouted, waving the weapon at the lot, "You've already been told this is what's happening! Told that Clock-la would rather see you all dead! In fact you're all dead already! This is your chance for redemption, if you don't like it, we are authorized to kill each and every one of you! No one try to be a hero, and just tough it out!" He waited for his words to take effect, and slowly but surely they did, the room was at peace once more, gripped with fear but peaceful nonetheless. "Now!" the guard looked into the hat, from which the names were being pulled, "Privates Grizzly and Law!"

The Panda King walked forward, the sound of his boot steps, and the boot steps of another from behind him, echoed throughout the room. He stood at attention in front of the hyena that'd called him out, whilst there he slightly tilted his head to get a look at who his partner was and he immediately regretted it.

You know that one person in your life, that annoying as hell classmate, or that friend of a friend, that one person if put into words, you don't necessarily want to die, you just want them to not be alive…any more, that one person in your life that no matter how many times you see 'em, you can't help but enjoy the image of you cracking them across the chest with a good old fashioned baseball bat. Well, take that person and put 'em in that one situation where you see 'em at the grocery store, or the library, any place beyond the normal place where you're **required** to put up with them, that feeling of unpleasant surprise you get, where it feels like your guts are twisting up inside you and you can't decide whether or not to just avoid them whilst hoping they haven't spotted you or eviscerate them on the spot with you bare hands. Well that was the exact feeling that came upon the Panda King as he found out that Pt. Law, his partner for an upcoming gauntlet of death traps, was none other than the same skunk woman who'd been staring at him time and again.

As much as he would've liked to call her out on the spot, in front of everyone, confronting her for her strangeness, sadly, there were other things on his plate at the moment. Concentrating on their hyena superior, The Panda King did his best to push the unpleasantness of the situation far from his mind.

"You two," the hyena said sternly to the two, "Report to Lt. Hayes at the end of the line, and wait for further instructions."

The two did as they were told, Pt. Law leading the way, allowing The Panda King his turn to stare at her for a change. The walk wasn't long, considering Lt. Hayes was still in the same room as them, a large room, no question, but still a room. Lt. Hayes was yet another hyena guard but unlike the guard that preceded him, he carried a nice shiny clipboard (it wasn't **that** shiny, but it did have a nice sheen nonetheless), and carried a perennially tired look about him.

"Okay," he said as the two privates approached, "Let's sum this up, I don't wanna be here all day *yawn*." He then jabbed his pen in the skunk's direction, "Full name?"

Pt. Law blinked at the question, as if for a moment she'd forgotten her own name, before answering, "Kitsune Law." Kitsune Law, the Panda King repeated inside his own head, it was an awfully oriental name, which was weird since she spoke with a slightly Hispanic tone. But, as an afterthought, he gave a quick glance to the people who made up the colorful cast of Company Alpha Zero, and the fact that he himself was a giant Chinese panda with the first name "John", it wasn't much to worry about, although the name "Kitsune" was oddly familiar.

After Law gave her full name, Lt. Hayes jotted it down and proceeded to use a tape measurer to get her height and width increments.

"I've, uh, already been fitted for my uniform," Law said, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable with the informality of being touched in such a manner.

"Uniform yes, coffin no," Lt. Hayes said as he jotted down the numbers, "and you've got some paint on your shirt collar." Law took immediate notice of the small white gob and quickly removed it, as if it were some contaminated toxic waste.

After that it was business as usual, the Panda King gave his name (the fake one), got his measurements and took his place next to Law in line, all that was left was to wait. During their time in line, The Panda King made a point of staring at Law, who for her part did everything in her power to act as if the bear wasn't there. What was with her? The question seemed to be impossible to expel from his mind, for as long as he knew her, which admittedly was not long at all, her every waking moment seemed almost dedicated to staring him down, and now, less than a step away, she's acting like he was the "fatty" funhouse mirror (A/N: every chick **I** know will gnaw their leg off long before they look at that thing). And why was she even looking in the first place? What in the heck did she want out of him? With the current crowd located at Bullet Bay, he wouldn't be surprised if she had a couch waiting at home which, if she had her way, would have his skin all over it.

Even with the staring contest occupying the Panda King's attention, which he was totally winning, the wait was un-**bear**-able (ha ha ha…fine don't laugh, at least it's a different direction from the pickle jokes). It wasn't that the line was long, no not at all, the line had gotten to a length of six spaces tops, and that's where it stayed, it was the anticipation that kept his gut twisting into knots. You know that feeling you get when you first go on a really big rollercoaster, y'know, the ones they advertise on TV and your friend's friend's second cousin's step brother, by marriage, swears that he saw someone die on it? You know how when you're less than a minute or so away from getting on the ride, you start to have a few second thoughts, and you get this horrific feeling of fear, doubt, and dread? Well that feeling gets drastically increased when you're about to be thrown into a death trap, crazy isn't it?

The Panda King gritted his teeth as it became his and Law's turn to go into The Grinder. One guard stood at the podium which was also the door controls. Ever since he'd admitted the team prior to the Panda King and Law, a polar bear reindeer duo, he was staring at a screen that had two smiley faces on it. Almost immediately after the two entered one of the yellow faces turned to an all too grim skull and crossbones, the Panda King knew all too well what that meant, it took some time but soon the other smiley soon followed suit. It was time. The hyena pressed a button and the metal double doors opened soundlessly, their well oiled gears going into action once more. He looked to the next to contestants, his eyes completely impassive as he gave the okay for privates Grizzly and Law to enter.

When the two entered, they were immediately greeted by a black curtain, to keep prying eyes from getting a jump on the competition by seeing the first trap. Walking carefully past the veil, as the metal doors snapped shut behind them, they entered a short hallway that had a door at the end. The place was lit by green lighting and the walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to be built in a classic Victorian era style, and the air was thick with dust and the scent of rot, so yeah, much like your average haunted house. The only exceptionally strange thing about this place was that all along the wall were several cuckoo clocks.

"We should just run it," Law suggested, saying her first words to the Panda King, ever.

"I'm sure that the others have thought that one up too," the bear countered.

"Maybe they got through," she retorted, but her words were mumbled, unsure.

Suffice to say, they didn't run. They took a few tentative steps down the hall, practically tiptoeing, as if some terrible invisible beast were slumbering in the hall ready to devour them. However, once it turned out that this was not the case, they began to walk at a steady, but still slow, pace. As they walked, the Panda King looked at the clocks on the wall, he didn't pay much attention to them until he realized that they all had no minute or hour hands, only the ever rare second hand, and they all were in perfect sync. He would've continued to ignore them, but the image of the recruit with the daggers in his back popped into his mind.

The second hands were reaching the twelve when the apprehensive Panda King pulled an alarmed and confused Pt. Law to the ground. She tried to lift his massive arm off of her when the clocks above rang out in a great chorus of bells and whistles. However, instead of plastic representations of a bird notorious for committing murder at birth, when the tiny doors opened they shot out daggers that flew every which way, their targets being the open cuckoo door adjacent from their own.

"You could've said "duck"," Law complained, dusting herself off.

"You'd ask why." The Panda King said flatly.

"Whatever," She said, more mad that she'd been shown up than thankful for the assist. The two moved quickly to the door and entered…

Another hallway, identical to the last, minus the clocks. Another difference being that the floor was rubber. Whatever danger they represented would become clear momentarily, the Panda King thought to himself. "Ladies first," The Panda King said to Law, giving a slight bow.

"Oh geez, I'm honored," she replied with a sneer.

The two walked forward carefully taking everything, looking for any sign of danger, although admittedly there wasn't much to go on. They were about halfway down the hall when all of a sudden they heard a slight hiss. They turned around to find it's source when they were greeted by the ignition of a wall of fire. This alone, frightening as it was, posed no true threat, that is until that very same wall of combustion started to move towards them at a staggering speed. The two turned to high tail it out of there when they found that the door had moved away, they looked down to find that the floor was a massive treadmill, that one that was going at a high speed, and was picking up more by the second.

Now, it wasn't that the Panda King wasn't fit, he worked out almost as if it were a religion unto itself. It was the fact that he wasn't much of a runner, in fact, from his formidable size and legendary strength, he highly doubted there'd be anything he'd have to run from. He now realized how wrong he was, as he soon began to huff and puff from lack of sleep and a terrible lack of cardiovascular fitness, he was bar-b-q.

Law on the other hand, as the bear had guessed, was well acquainted with running, her powerful legs rocketing her across the floor. However, the floor had started to really pick up the pace, putting even her speed to the test. In a last ditch effort, she closed her eyes, crouched and astounded the Panda King as she leaped the amazing two thirds of the hall to turn the door knob at the end, not even Sly could jump that far.

Instantly, as the knob turned, the flames shut off and the floor ceased to move. Law looked back and was disgusted to find that "Private Grizzly" was flat on his butt. "Get up," she practically snarled, "we don't' have all day."

The Panda King would've shot something back at the stalker freak, but he was just glad that she didn't see him have to put out the flames on a particularly embarrassing part of his pants, he wasn't going to be sitting down any time soon.

The two walked into (surprise, surprise) another hallway, however, they couldn't find anything immediately suspicious. Being somewhat understandably paranoid, the Panda King suggest they go back to back down the hall, and Law, being equally somewhat understandably paranoid, agreed (gee, what's their problem? It's not like anyone trying to kill 'em or something like that, right?). However, amazing as it sounds, they made it to the end of the hall without so much as a hitch. Law, who had taken the front took in everything, noting even a white "X" painted on the floor, however, that's not all her fantastic skills of deduction procured. As she reached to turn the door knob, she realized…

"There's no knob," she said over her shoulder to The Panda King.

If the bear had a warm, beating heart that allowed him to feel alien emotions such as humor, mercy, or compassion, it would've stopped at those words. "What?!" he nearly roared as he whirled around to see for himself, and sure enough, where one, or at least anyone sensible, would normally place a door knob, there was instead a bare space of wood, and the slight hint of crushed dreams of freedom.

"Great, what do we do now?!" Law shouted, her voice becoming somewhat hysterical.

"I don't know," the bear admitted, gritting his teeth and keeping his cool, but just barely, "But we need to-"

The Panda King's guiding words were cut short as a bright light shot out at them from their right. The two turned to see a security monitor, the black, white and gray imagery showed an above view of baboon recruit. He seemed to be searching for something, when something suddenly caught his attention to his right. He turned and seemed to be somewhat confused as he stared intently at something off screen. Law gasped when she saw that the ape was suddenly shot dead, twice in the back by some unseen assailant.

The film glitched out and went to a different scene. It was the same set, but a different guest star, the Panda King recognized him as one of the two that went before them, the reindeer. He too seemed to be looking for something, but he seemed to have found it. He turned to a spot on the floor and started to pound away at it, he stopped however, when something caught his attention. The bear gritted his teeth, not out of surprise as the reindeer met the same end as his predecessor, but because the Panda King saw that the deer was striking an all too familiar white "X".

The bear was a brown and green blur as he spun around, ready to rip something to shreds, but only coming face to face with the barrel of a gun. The pistol was held in a threatening manner by a zebra guard who'd been behind a trap door, the click from the hammer cocking caught Law's attention as well. The three stood in an intense silence, the two recruits not knowing their fate.

"Don't panic," were the zebra's only words, rather than a reassurance however, it sounded more like an order, and considering that he still had a pistol pointed at the two, neither one was in a mood to disobey orders. The two became extremely apprehensive of the striped horse's actions as he reached back into the secret room he had come from and flicked an unseen switch. They were somehow relieved that they weren't crushed, stabbed or torn limb from limb due to the zebra's actions, and only the door opened. The situation had become an odd mixture of frightening and relieving as the guard waved them through, yet still had his six-shooter trained on the two.

Both the Panda King and Pt. Law let out great audible sighs as the door closed behind them. Sadly however, their troubles were not yet, as once again they found themselves in another haunted house hallway. They cautiously moved down the hall, when they heard the all too familiar hiss of gas being released. However, unlike the last time, the two were met with a thick green fog that was coming into the hall from all directions. At the rate it was filtering in, it'd take less than a minute for the whole hall to become filled to the brim with gas, and considering that the lights had changed to red and began to flash violently, they did not want to be in there by the time it was full.

The two got low to the ground and rushed to the end of the hall. Once there, they reached a problem, one they'd got hung up on already. The door had no knob.

"Oh, COME ON!" Law shouted, "What are we going to do?"

"Look for something!" the bear roared. And so the search began, which admittedly didn't last long, as The Panda King found out something about the floor and Law found a button.

The skunk took moment to stare at the big red circle with the words "DON'T PUSH ME BUSTER!" comically placed on it. "Oh, that's quaint," Law sardonically muttered as she reached her hand to push. Her finger barely brushed the button's center when "Grizzley" spun 'round and slammed her against the door. A flash of blinding white pain was all that she saw before she could make out the bear's massive brown paw pining her to the wall. "ARE YOU LOCO!?!" the skunk yelled, genuinely questioning the bear's sanity, "That gas is gonna be on us any second! PUSH THE BUTTON!!!"

"Look down," the Panda King instructed, his voice a pillar of steady tranquility.

Law was not in the mood for a game of Simon Says, but since the bear had already pulled her bacon out of the fire twice within the hour, she went along with what he said. As it turned out, the two were walking on thin ice, well, glass to be specific, glass that'd need to be pretty thick to support their combined weight. However, despite that, it did not distort the view of several bodies who had been left to the combined mercy of gravity and the spikes that pointed up towards the two recruits, not pleasant at all (duh).

"Well what are we supposed to do?" Law asked disheartened, defeat and fatigue setting in fast.

"We look," The Panda King asked simply, releasing the woman. Make no mistake, the Panda King was quite afraid for his life, but he'd be damned if he was going to allow himself to die at any time before one o'clock, that's when Cheers came on (where everybody knows your name), followed by MASH, it made up the afternoon comedy block, which he absolutely refused to miss, that was of course unless channel eighty-eight brought back Addams Family and Sanford and Son, followed by the Alfred Hitchcock Spook Slot.

"Look for what!?!" Law said, rapidly searching the walls, fighting the urge to press the button in her panic stricken state.

"I do not know, something that's, oh! It's probably this." The Panda King was looking at a door knocker just a little out of his reach, and even further out of the lady's. Hurriedly, the two looked around for an instrument that could aid them in their uphill journey, finding a chair that was all the way at the other end of the hall, deep within the poisonous fog that was steadily advancing.

Dismayed at this turn of events, the bear looked deep into the skunks eyes, and the skunk looked deep into the bears, and in that one perfect moment, they learned something about one another; neither one of them was dumb enough to volunteer to go get that chair. So adding together all his facts, the Panda King came up with a million and one plans, all of them ending with him dying, and one plan that would work…but he wouldn't like it. Taking one more look at the fog cloud, the Panda King reviewed the reasons why he should want to do this, (partly Jing King, partly his commitment to the Cooper Gang, mostly his own will to live) and he got down on all fours.

Now, the act had caught Law completely out of left field. She really never expected to see "Grizzly" on all fours, firstly since it's a position requested by others for women,…or certain, shall we say, "eccentric" gentiles, or just guys in prison or hillbillie country that have no luck at all. And secondly, because here was not the place and now was not the time for such antics. She stood confused, thinking that the nature of facing his own demise cooked the bear's brain. That was until he grunted and nodded his head towards the knockers, everything becoming clear, and to be honest, if it weren't the life threatening situation, she would've relished the prospect, oh well, she'd just have to save this moment in her brain under "golden memories" and "never gonna happen again".

Law hastily climbed up and stood upon the Panda King's back, the bear hardly grunting at the added weight. Even with the added height, Law had to stand on tiptoe to reach the knocker. Taking the brass ring, she pulled back and knocked three times, as loud as she could, waiting for, well, something. Sadly, for the longest time, nothing happened, the gas continued, unimpeded, it's smoky tendrils beginning to shift silently over the bear's fingers.

Then, suddenly, that all turned around. The slight hiss of released gas turned to the roaring vroom of a vacuum, the gas receding to 'til it was transparent puff, then nothing at all, Law got off the bear's back, to his relief, and best of all, the door opened.

The two walked into the white lights of a waiting area almost identical to the waiting are preceding the hall of horrors. One major difference being the change up of numbers, when the two entered they were greeted by fourteen faces, nine slightly nodding and somewhat unknown, four being guards and hardly caring, the last marching up and all too familiar.

"Well I'd say I'm impressed, but I'm not," General Red commented as he strode broadly towards the two, "Good job just as well though, and I see neither of you died, that's a first."

The two stood at attention, unsure of how to answer this praise mixed with insult.

"Major! Clipboard! I wanna register these two personally." Red shouted to one of the hyena guards. The guard in question hurried over, carrying a clipboard. He handed the general the panel of wood and a pen, then stood at ease at general's side.

"Okay," he said, taking the pen in his hand, pointing towards Law, "What's your name sweetheart?"

"Kitsune Law, sir," the skunk answered, slightly blushing at the highly informal designation.

"Kitsune…Law," The ant said as he masterfully penned the lady's name, his expertly crafted cursive outshining and contrasting to the messy scrawls above, "and you big guy?" he said, pointing the pen at the bear now.

"John Grizzly, sir," the Panda King lied coolly.

At the mention of this particular name, General Red did a double take, nearly dropping his pen. "…The pizza guy?..." the ant said, unsure if he'd heard the name right, starting to doubt the legitimacy of the story as he stared at the Panda King's muscular form.

"I assure you, sir," The Panda King began, in a bid to put the general's suspicions to rest, "they were very, **very**, big pizzas."

At this statement General Red broke out into a rousing chorus of laughter, "HA HA HA! I guess so!"

"I'm glad to see that even when he has work to do for our glorious mistress's cause," came a smooth, embracing, almost hypnotic voice from the other end of the room, "The great General Red has time joke around." Instantly, every head in the room turned to the same spot, the direction the cloaked insult came from. At the room's exit, there were of the biggest, meanest, and most ruthless wildebeest guards on base, but it was clear none of them were articulate enough to have a word like "mistress's" in their vocabulary. It was clear that they weren't the main attraction, they were goons, stooges, clowns, call them what you will, it was clear that their ringmaster was the guy front and center of their ranks.

He was a panther, a perfect panther. His fur was a striking shade of midnight blue, it was smooth with a grand sheen, not a single stray hair to be found, in a word; flawless. That was just the icing on the cake, his muscles rippled like water on a placid creek, yet looked as sturdy and strong as steel, he buff, but not a walking mountain of muscle like some. Then there was his face, Hollywood handsome didn't come close to what this guy had, it was nicely rounded off where it needed to be and sharp cut, straight and narrow everywhere else, it all working to draw you view to his eyes. His eyes were yellow, and unlike those of most jungle cats, they weren't fierce, or shifty, or anything of the like, no, not at all. They were wide, caring, and genuine, these could've been the eyes of your mother, or your father, your sister, your brother, your best friend, or even your lover…these were eyes you would trust and believe in, even if you didn't wanted to.

The panther strolled into the room, as if he owned the place, and from the reactions from the recruits, one if they didn't know better would be inclined to believe it as well, the guy knew how to make an entrance. Not to mention the wildebeest entourage didn't hurt either, it was a pure show of force and he didn't care who knew it, in fact, he that was his intent, he was out to make a lasting impression, and it was working.

However, it did not work nearly as well on some as it did on others. "Colonel Cobalt, can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?" General Red said curtly, turning around, obviously not impressed as his face switched from joy to strong disapproval, but at least he hid it loads better than his four hyena guards, who barely had it in them to keep from baring their teeth at these smug looking newcomers.

However, despite the less than warm reception, this did not stop Colonel Cobalt from trying to take over the situation. "So," the panther said, circling General Red to look the Panda King dead in the eye, "Am I looking at the next leader of the notorious Company Alpha Zero?"

"There are people still testing for that," The General cut in sharply, "You'll get your chance to be acquainted when you meet with the company's squad leader, whoever that is, at the officer's barracks."

"But of course," Cobalt said, turning to look down at the General who only stood as tall as the panther's waist, "Once again General, I must congratulate you on your decision to deny my many requests of being allowed to bunk in your luxurious home and have me stay with all the common officers in the officer's barracks."

"Sure thing Colonel," General Red said with a fake smile, "because I know you'd **never** go over my head and complain to Clock-la that I was being too hard on you." Instantly, the smile completely disappeared from his face, "Now I assume that there's a reason why you're here and not doing something useful."

"Yes, well, it has just occurred to me that with this recent rash of deserters and traitors amongst our honorable ranks, in this glorious force the grand lady Clock-la has so geniusly-"

"Get on with it!"

"Yes of course. It has occurred to me that there is a possible security risk at having only so few men work the bay guns. It really is getting hard to tell friend from turncoat these days, perhaps if you'd be so kind as to give me the register of men on duty, or at the very least, let me recommend several men I trust to assist in the task. I assure you we'll all rest easier this way, trust me."

"Hmm…well seeing as I seem to sleep pretty well as it is, and since the men I set up for the bay guns are men I'd trust my life with, and that's not a term I use lightly, I think the bay gun crews are just fine the way they are."

At this answer, Cobalt's eyes widened, the idea that someone actually telling him "no" just completely blew his mind. So, nearly stuttering, he began, "But-"

"However! Since you and your girlfriends here got enough time to come and make requests, it means you've got time to do some work around here. You six," The General said, pointing a sausage sized finger at the wildebeest guards, "the jeeps around here are getting pretty dirty. Get to the motor pool and give 'em a good scrub down. Wash, rinse, wax, the whole nine yards, in fact, do it twice." The wildebeest thugs seemed dismayed, confused, they absolutely did not understand how they got all this work out of the blue. That, however, was not the end, the hyena guards shared secretive grins with one another as General Red rounded on Colonel Cobalt, "As for you, Colonel, I need you to take inventory of all the store houses, leave no rutabaga unturned."

"But that'll take-"

"I don't care how long it takes, just get it done. I want every scrap of food and toilet paper jotted down. If there's a single sheet missing, I wanna know about it. And once you get done with that, give these girls a hand with washing the jeeps. That's an order, is that clear?"

For a moment, every eye in the room rested upon the ant and the panther that towered over him, unsure of the outcome of this situation. For the longest time, the smart money would've been that Colonel Cobalt would've gone into a blind rage and attacked the General, however, in an amazing turn of events, the panther merely broke into a warm hearted smile. "Yes sir. For what greater joy could there be than to serve our grand lady Clock-la, her love and protection washing over us as we do her work." With that Colonel Cobalt, and his men, turned on heel and headed for the exit.

"Yeah, whatever. Corporal Asher!" The General called to another of the hyena guards, "Accompany the Colonel here and make sure he carries out his orders, instead of shoving them on someone else." At this, Corporal Asher had no qualms about not hiding his smile, as he trotted along to watch a despised higher up do a lot of grunt work.

However not all hyena's bore a grin to see the Colonel hit the road. When the panther was out of earshot, the major who stood at the General's side said to his commander, "With permission to speak freely, was that the wisest choice sir? You know he'll just have the lady Clock-la force you into giving him what he wants."

"…No," General Red answered bitterly as the exit doors closed.

"You don't think he will?"

"You don't have permission to speak freely." He then turned back towards Pt. Law and the Panda King who were looking at all corners of the room, pretending they saw nothing of the scene that'd just played out before them, "As for you two…I think you two deserve something special. Get down, start doing some pushups. You can stop when I get tired of watching you worms squirm."

Doing as they were told, the two got onto the floor and began their exercise. General Red was soon dissatisfied with the amount of difficulty the task presented the two, and with a snap of his fingers, a bucket of water was placed upon each of their backs, which they were given explicit instructions not to spill the buckets or heaven help 'em, then as an afterthought, two more were added to the Panda King's back. Now things were really cooking, and that's just how he liked it.

Now I don't know if you know this, but these pushups were hard. Now, I'm not saying that pushups in general are hard, it's a decent, honest exercise which greatly benefits millions across the globe into a desired state of physical fitness. However, I'm sure some of you have done pushups at least once, and I'm sure you will agree that when a bucket of water is added into the equation, the task becomes significantly more difficult. But even that difficulty pales in comparison to the difficulty of when you do the exercise **immediately** after an already exhausting activity, like say, and mind you I'm just shooting this out there as a random example, get done running a horrible death filled gauntlet.

Now the exercise is actually a lot more accomplishable and far less daunting when the one doing it uses the power of their mind. Most people when exercising will merely think inspiring words at themselves, or merely concentrate on counting how many they're doing or have done so far. However, if the burning of their muscles is far too much and almost unbearable, many people enter an almost trancelike state where they see themselves as what they want to look like, or even go so far as to imagine themselves at some exotic locale, or even at home, anywhere but the horrible place that they are in. The Panda King and Law were at that point.

Now, as much as the Panda King would've liked to be in front of the TV on the ship, watching Cheers, or Law would've loved to catch a wonderful tan at Honolulu, General Red was determined to remind the two of where they actually were.

"Is everything to your liking Private Law!?!" General Red shouted into the skunk's ear.

"Yes sir," Law answered under some considerable duress.

"Not getting tired are you?"

"No sir," Law grunted.

"See, thing is I noticed that you've barely cleared fifty and you're already starting to sweat. It's actually pretty disgusting."

"I'm sorry sir."

"Ain't that the truth!" the General shouted out with a grin before turning on the Panda King. "And what about you pizza boy!?! You're not having any regrets about working for Clock-la are you?"

"No sir."

""No sir" what?"

"No sir, I do not have any regrets."

"Well we've got to change that quick, fast, and in hurry don't we? You're sure there isn't anywhere else you'd rather be right now?"

"No sir," the bear answered, trying to keep his mind off the fact that his arm muscles were screaming at him, for the love of God, to stop whatever it was he was doing to cause such pain.

And so it went. With a snap of his fingers the General added a bucket each to their of the backs, and after everyone (mostly Law and The Panda King) got over the initial shock of that decision, things began to settle into a steady and decent flow. The General would of course be on hand to give out helpful little tidbits of information, such as they should quit now because empty space is far more useful and pleasant to look at than they, or how there is evidence that the rules of natural selection are all bunk, seeing as how a couple of turkey eyed losers such as they made it all the way to the floor in front of him. He would of course take breaks from this, seeing as insulting is quite the tiring industry, allowing the hyenas to inform them that the world would be so much more better off if those two just got up, walked out into the middle of the road, laid down on their backs and died. It really was an interesting situation, filled with a broad spectrum of feelings, like an emotional rainbow, and even to this day, if you were ask them to describe the whole experience in one word, as I'm sure you'll agree, they would say, "SUCKED!"

Pushups aside, the proceedings were somewhat slow. I mean, sure people were going into the grinder and were getting taken out at a steady pace, but it wasn't quick enough to keep those not involved from becoming bored, which might explain why the guards took to torturing Law and the Panda King so well. However, even though it felt like wading through quicksand, things finally settled down and the last recruits had gone through the grinder. The Panda King felt his blood run cold when one hyena informed General Red that out of one hundred and sixty recruits in Company Alpha Zero, only forty-three remained.

"Forty-three!?!" The General shouted, genuinely confused, "There's never been that many survivors before. Hmm…" As much as General Red would've relished the opportunity to ponder on this phenomenon, there were other matters to tend to at the moment. So, going with a great spark of insight, he walked over to where Law and The Panda King were still steadily doing push up, their face nearly red and toenail sized puddles of sweat forming under them.

"Okay recruits!" General Red called out to the forty-one other survivors of The Grinder, "Gather round, I wanna show you kids something." He politely waited for all the recruits to gather around, making sure everyone got a good view of Law, the Panda King, and himself, before continuing. "Look at 'em," he said, pointing his finger at the two on the ground, "They are a couple of losers, aren't they? Sweat covered, smelly, and beat up."

The recruits seemed slightly confused by what was happening, they were pretty banged up themselves, and word around the campfire was that they'd been doing pushups since there was barely enough recruits around to play a game of softball, but that didn't stop General Red from going on to continue raking them over the coals.

"Just look at 'em…these two worms love the ground so much, they can barely keep themselves off of it…Say, why don't you kids show 'em how we all feel about trash like this in Bullet Bay?"

The recruits were unsure, but a few had begun to start in nervous laughter.

"Oh come on! You gotta show 'em what you really think of 'em! Give 'em a piece of your mind!"

It was slow at first, but soon General Red had whipped the recruits into a frenzy. Soon Law and The Panda King, who, might I add, were still doing pushups, heard themselves being called every foul and dirty name in the book, and a few that weren't. In less than a minute, there was a crowd of people who were hooting, hollering, shouting, spitting, essentially everything short of physically running up and proceeding to thug stomp the two.

"Ooh!" The General shouted as he listened to the chorus of insults, with a great broad grin on his face, "Her Mother!?! Good one! Spitting too!?! Pour it on!" Then suddenly, the mood of the room changed, partly because the recruits had run low on new insults, partly because they were dehydrated and had little spittle to spare, but mostly because General Red's face turned to a look of pure hatred and rage as he slammed his fist into one of the recruits.

**FWAP!**

The punch in question, involved General Red's fist and an understandably surprised platypus. The blow created a resounding smacking noise that quieted the recruits who trained their attention to their comrade who was now on the ground, clutching his chest, spitting up blood and gasping for air, then their eyes shot to the ant responsible for it.

To say that General Red looked furious was putting it mildly whilst adding a fluffy pink bow. His nostrils were flaring, his four hands were constantly clenching and unclenching, and his jaw was set tighter than most dentists would think possible. For the longest time the only sound heard was the General's haggard breathing, and the hard huffing and puffing from Law and The Panda King as they continued to carry out their orders.

"IT'S NOTHING TO LAUGH AT!" General Red suddenly snapped out. "Get those buckets off them, and take him to the infirmary," he said to the hyena guards, his last request intended for the platypus who still on the ground. Two guards quickly moved to remove the buckets, whilst a third helped the recruit up off the ground and helped him hobble off to see a doctor. All the while, Law and the Panda King remained on the ground, doing pushups still, unsure of what to do.

"You two, get up and stand at attention," The General instructed them waiting for them to carry out his orders before engaging the small crowd of recruits once more. "These two, you humiliating batch of gutless cowards, are nothing to laugh at. Not only did they make it successfully through The Grinder like the rest of you, but they also were capable of doing pushups for nearly two hours straight **immediately** afterwards, with weight on their backs, and with no questions asked. But most important of all, they are **only** recruits out of the lot of you who did not allow their partner to die. They are shining examples that you should look up to, pinnacles of loyalty in your lady's name, and more importantly, your new squad leaders, who, might I add, you just finished spitting on. How smart do **you** morons feel?" He then turned to Law and the Panda King, with a mischievous grin on his face, "So, what's your first order?"

The Panda King merely smiled and said, "Ladies first."

Law got a look on her face that resembled the look of joy found mostly on the faces of kids with magnifying glasses near ant hills. "Do laps," she began, "around this room from now until dinner, the one found at the back of the group doesn't get fed."

The crowd stood unflinching for a moment, not quite sure what exactly transpired. Fortunately, or unfortunately, really a sort of glass half full/half empty sort of deal, the hyena guards were on hand to provide enforcement. "You heard her, maggots! Get moving, NOW!" one guard shouted to the lot, brandishing a nightstick in a very threatening manner, his comrades following suit. Pretty soon the whole room became filled with the sound of heavy footfalls.

"You know," General Red said to Law, "You'd be surprised just how many new officers pick that option. Lots of variations on the punishment, but still the same basic formula."

"Excuse me, sir," The Panda King piped up, "but what do we do now?"

"Hmm, good question…how 'bout lunch?"

* * *

**Gate Crashers

* * *

**

**Gabon Coast, Africa 8:24pm**

"Okay," Bentley said over the binoc-u-com, from his hiding spot in the bush, eyeing his entrance point from the night before, "let's go over this just one more time."

"Aw, dude, we've gone over this, like a zillion times already," Suzy Q complained over the radio waves, "You're gonna give my brain a total meltdown man."

"Actually," Penelope cut in, "It's been eight times over the course of today, but I do agree."

"C'mon Bentley," Murray began to boast, "I'm pumped! You're pumped-"

"I'm not pumped," Bentley corrected.

"I'm pumped! C'mon pal, let's cut this fart loose!"

"…Okay, let's do this. But whatever you guys do, make sure-"

"Asura mi ono?" The Guru asked, getting his first bit of dialogue since the start of this act.

"No, pumpkins have nothing to do with this."

"Blow the Panda King's cover?" Penelope interjected.

"Close, and a good one, but not quite there."

"Let you get shot?" Suzy Q suggested.

"That's the one."

"Aw sweet, like, what do I win man?"

"Two cents and a swift kick in the teeth, now get to work."

"Aw man, I always win that."

It was the start of the operation, Bentley took a deep breath and looked around. Zebra's were still in their towers, guns at the ready to tag any and all intruders, but that's not what bugged. True, if one of those gun toting ponies caught sight of him, he'd be twenty types of dead, but that wasn't a problem last night, well, not a large one. The trouble laid in the fact that without the distraction of the incoming recruits from last night, all the hyena and wildebeest guards were set back to their routes of inspecting the outer areas of the base. The hyenas were no problem, seeing as Bentley didn't consider himself much of a rooftop man, which of course left the all too friendly flashlight guards which patrolled the base at ground level. It wasn't that he didn't have confidence in his team's abilities, there was no doubt in mind that Penelope and the Guru had him well protected, but it just wasn't quite the same sense of security that having Murray around provided (let's face it folks, having a giant pink hippo bodyguard, capable of knocking just about any bozo into next Tuesday in just one hit, **is** a pretty sweet deal).

"Well," he said, trying to psych himself up for a task he really didn't want to do, "I just can't sit around all day." He paused to stare at his chair for a moment, "Well, not in a literal sense at least."

Penelope sat and stared from her hiding place in one of the trees. Using her binoc-u-com, she saw and slightly giggled as she watched Bentley plant a dart in the middle of one of the guard's butt cheeks. "Hmph, funny," she smirked to herself as her shelled sharpshooter jetted over the fence and into the tower booth. Once there, Bentley opened up one of his chair compartments and deposited a large rock that disappeared in a puff of smoke and revealed the location of none other than the Guru himself. Bentley waited in the tower booth while the only team member actually shorter than himself climbed out of the booth and disappeared. That was Penelope's cue.

She turned to the wider end of her bough and flipped he helicopter on. She hated starting up in the trees, it took a surgeon's precision not to get the small chopper's rotor's caught on any of the jungle's various vines and branches, but considering that the zebra snipers carried rifles that could easily pick her off from a mile or so away, she was more than willing to grin and bear it. So, after only a few snags and heart stopping moments, she was able to climb up and out of the upper canopy and off towards the base. Now things were really getting busy.

Things were far from busy. Murray was in charge of getting the rhino herd moving, and despite the best suggested efforts "Hey Suzy Q," Murray called over to his, his words partner falling on deaf ears, well, not deaf ears per say, but they might as well be when those ears have headphones that are cranked up as high as she had 'em.

So after several pebble throws numbering in the twenties, Murray came to grips with the fact that he was not an expert marksman, least as far as stone throwing was concerned, as well as gained Ms. Q's attention.

"What, man!?!" Suzy Q shouted, turning the volume down, refusing to remone the headphones. She was a bit annoyed that her investigations of this mysterious new thing called Metal were interrupted by the same guy who had introduced her to the stuff.

"The stuff's not working," Murray answered honestly.

"Like, what?"

Feeling a visual aid was needed in this situation, Murray jabbed a thumb towards the inert herd of rhinoceros.

"Yeah, so?" she asked, the current situation's problem being lost on her.

"We need to get 'em moving!"

"Oh yeah. Well dude! Did you tell them that with capitalism-"

""With capitalism, we're doomed to a society that thrives upon destroying the small. So as such, our streets are paved with crushed dreams of the helpless, and the gutters are only a refuge for the homeless, downtrodden and orphaned to bleed away and die." Yeah I told them that, they just kept on eating their grass, or whatever it is they're eating."

"Okay, how about the fact that the government is so stressed out, deranged, and manic in their actions against any form of communism that at any given moment they could impose a totalitarian regime and take away just about any right on the books, and no one will be able to stop them because the masses have been brainwashed by religion, radio, and television that the government is all powerful, but always on their side and out to protect them and that anyone who talks bad on the government is out to kill people and their children?"

"I told them that too."

"Dude! It doesn't make any sense, that stuff scares the snot outta me."

"Well they don't seem to care about that stuff."

"Did you do that yelling thing?"

"I tried that right after the government totalitarian thingy."

"And?"

"Nothing."

Now, I want to take a moment to review one of Murray's techniques, so that it's effect is not discredited or forgotten. The Guttural Roar, as Bentley once put, is one of "The Murray's" handier, yet lesser known, tactics. The skill requires Murray to firmly plant his feet on the ground, stare his opposition dead in the eye, then, with all the air his sizeable lungs could muster, yell like an axe murderer. This scare tactic has been known to make trained killers, whose bread and butter was the gruesome murder of others, wet their pants and run like scared children from a particularly frightening and engaging campfire story. Unfortunately, as tragic as it may seem, the rare African herding rhinoceros is notorious for two things. One being a mating call that is oddly similar in sound quality to a vacuum cleaner, and two being very, **very**, hard sense of hearing. In a brief, but much exaggerated, description, you know that old guy in the old folk's home with the yodeling horn sticking out of his ear and you have to yell into it for him to hear you? Well that's what the rare African rhino has to deal with from birth, and it doesn't get much better from there.

Meanwhile, back on the base front, Penelope moved her chopper into position at the far end of the fence, so as not to draw attention to Bentley incase the copter was spotted prematurely. Whilst there, she saw the genius himself use his chair's boosters for a slow descent to the ground. On the ground he looked around for the nearest fence power box, the ominous buzzing of electricity raised the hair on the back of his neck, that is if he had hair, but I digress.

Spotting the same one he'd first looked into the night before, he wheeled over to open it once more. Inside he found all the wires exactly as he'd left 'em, so he quickly pushed past these to see the wire patch for the automatic power cut on for the fence. Unfortunately from the look of things, the device had a small metal antenna sticking out of it. Now, if he were the scholarly, hard thinking type, which he was, he'd say that just ripping the little sucker out of there would tip someone off that he was there and doing something he ought not to. Luckily however, he was the sort to suspect things like that from the beginning, and as such had a plan of action that was already in motion.

A particularly bored zebra sniper sat in his tower, surveying the same, old, boring as hell, barren landscape that was the minefield. Now don't be fooled, this particular sniper loved to be on the night shift guard duty, because it gave him all the time he needed to ponder life's great mysteries. Such as the meaning of life. Who created the world and why. What's the Statue of Liberty wearing under that toga? If he was black with white stripes or white with black stripes? If King Kong fought the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, who would win? If King Kong won, would he eat Stay Puft? If so, would he eat the whole thing or just the parts that didn't touch the ground? Or more importantly, what would he do if he also had to fight a chocolate monster and a robot made out of graham crackers all in the same day? Would he call up Godzilla and Rodan for help? If so, and if they won, would they tell spooky stories while they ate their fallen foes? And if so, how many batteries would they need for their flashlight, and what size would they be? And if so, who would tell scariest story (I think Rodan)? And while they told these stories, would they constantly need to keep Mothra away to keep him from flying around the campfire? Y'know, just the basic questions every guy asks himself…I think.

Anyways, taking a detour from this veritable well spring of intellectual discussion, our guard was not pondering on such subjects at the time. In fact, he wasn't pondering any questions that'd distract him at the time, hence the afore mentioned boredom. So being bored and such, as most guards tend to be, he allowed his eyes to wander, as most guards tend to do. It was during this wandering of the eye that he noticed something particularly strange about one of the sniper towers, thankfully it was a cloudless night or else he'd never caught sight of it. It was really weird, when he first caught sight of it, he coulda swore it was some little dude holding a stick, but after he took a closer look through his scope all he saw was a pinwheel and a puff of smoke. However, this all became irrelevant as he felt a tug on the back of his shirt, and this very bored guard was transformed into a very unfortunate guard as he fell through the air, his transformation ending with him being a very **hurt** guard as he landed ungraciously in a pile of trash bins.

Penelope could not believe what she was hearing, as she dispatched the last sniper guard by using the chopper's grappling hook to dispatch the last sniper by tossing him into some garbage cans. "I thought you wanted this to be a covert op. Bentley."

"Well not exactly," The turtle answered from the binoc-u-com.

""Silent as the grave," "Not to be seen, whatsoever," those were your exact words Bentley."

"Yes, but the words "covert op." were never uttered now, were they?"

"Cut the nonsense!"

"Hey, it's not my fault, someone's watching the power box's timer, if I shut it off they'll know it wasn't an accident."

"Oh, yeah, and causing a big ruckus will definitely remove all doubt. You're getting senile in your old age Bentley," she finished coolly.

"OLD AGE!?! I'll have you know I'm-"

"Not caring. Listen, there's got to be a way to go about this without waking up the whole base."

At this, Bentley took a second to think about this. Incidentally, he did figure out a way to do this without waking up the entire staff of Bullet Bay…but he didn't like it. So switching the frequencies on the on his binoc-u-com, he called out for info, "Rhino team, come in rhino team."

"Hey man…whassup?" Suzy Q answered in a very bored tone of voice.

"Well what's your status?"

"Hmm…oh yeah those rhinos…um what's that thing you wanted us to do with them?"

"Move 'em?"

"Yeah that…they're not doing that…it's a real problem."

"It's a very real problem, but listen, I want you to inform me when they do get moving."

"So wait, you don't want us to move 'em?"

"No, move 'em, move 'em as fast as you can just tell me when you get it done."

"Oh yeah, sure thing dude, no problem."

"You know, that's not very reassuring coming from you."

"Hey listen dude, if The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man fought King Kong, who'd win?"

"And that's the reason why."

"Huh?"

Bentley didn't bother replying, he simply shut off the sound to his binoc-u-com for the moment. Now was not the time for talking, now was the time for running the numbers. He had Penelope play his guardian angel with her chopper as he wheeled off towards his destination, and from the sounds of pain and punishment he heard from above on the rooftops and around the corners he assumed that she was doing a good job of it. Which left him with the serenity he needed to run the numbers.

The numbers. He started by taking a quick gander at his watch, which read 8:43 local time. Now, during his brief and admittedly hurried look at the base's schedule he noticed that it was hectic and unpredictable, seemingly changed and switched up on a mere moments whim, just the sort of thing to keep soldiers, or anyone who's not psychotic, on the their toes. However, the only standards that seemed to stay intact throughout the chaotic day to day changes was; dinner at eight, kitchen closes at eight-thirty, lights out at ten, simple yet sweet. Now since the kitchen closes at eight-thirty with a lights out call at ten, that left the bulk of Bullet Bay's staff with an hour and a half to shower, polish their boots, kick back and relax, whatever, before lights out. Bottom line: most guys weren't working, and the few that were didn't act like it.

So, confident in his calculations, Bentley was not at all surprised by what he found at his destination, the communications hub. The turtle was looking at the building with the radio tower from a dark corner across the way from it, he was taking one more look around to make sure that he'd be alone as he exposed himself, the faint sound of a guard being flung against a jeep assured him that he was. Bentley quickly crossed the street to hide in the shadows cast by the comm. building, taking care not to be spotted as he peeked into one of the windows at the back of the building. He smirked mischievously to himself as he surveyed the scene inside, two guards, a hyena and a zebra, sat at different desks, the pony playing solitaire while his buddy, a scholarly type, was more drooling than gazing at a magazine that showed the very sensual anatomy of a Ms. July (don't worry folks, I'm sure the guy only reads those magazines for the articles, NOT!), the two had "prey" written all over them.

Finishing up with surveying his targets, relieved that this situation needn't devolve into him brawling, Bentley immediately came up with a plan. First things being first (ain't that weird?), the turtle slowly pushed up on the window, taking care and not going too fast incase it was rusty or whatnot. The greatest enemies the Cooper Gang has ever had to contend with, going all the way back to the gang's roots, they have come closer to getting Sly, Bentley, and Murray killed or captured and alerted the guards more times than any fancy laser grid or high priced electric eye, these fiends are known as screechy windows, rusty door hinges, and creaky floor boards.

Luckily, their presence was not there that night, as Bentley had no trouble silently cracking the window without alerting the guards. Still working on a no sound basis, Bentley went on to quietly open his chair's grapple-cam compartment, removing the small device and placing it upon the windowsill. After that he circled around to the front of the building and tried the door, jiggling the knob he found it unlocked, which was understandable since it wasn't lights out yet, this was checkmate. Pressing the button to deploy his chair computer Bentley didn't even bother to look at the screen, his hands working from his spectacular memory. He pressed his ear to the door so he could hear the goings on of the inside and pressed the button to initiate the grapple-cam's default distraction noise; "YO UGLY!" Instantly, Bentley heard the noise of two sets of feet hit the floor as the guards inside jumped to their feet and stared at the window, confused.

Bentley quickly put his computer away and opened the door, firing tranquilizers into each of the guard's backs, the slobs never saw it coming, literally. Bentley now had full control of the communications hub, he quickly went to work by accessing the computers in the room, clicking off rather controversial sites the hyena had been gazing at beforehand. He hacked several security gates to come to find exactly what he suspected, if he'd simply deactivated the fence's automatic cut-on; the whole base would rise up like beehive that had firecrackers tossed at it, and they'd all zero in on his exact position. So not being one to put up with that sort of nonsense, Bentley quickly shut that particularly nasty feature off and called it a day. After that he decided to leave a few more little presents before he left, you know, setting up alerts for when certain key phrases are typed in, leaving wire taps on the phones, and making it so that tomorrow, the base's radio station plays nothing but The Bee Gees all day (ooh, he is **evil**), he finished up by grabbing his grapple-cam and pulling the darts from the guards backs.

That was just about the time that Suzy Q got on the line, "Hey, little turtle dude!"

"It's Bentley, Suzy," Bentley replied over the binoc-u-com.

"Yeah, whatever, listen, it's, like, really groovy! We got the rhinos moving! We're on our way to the base now!"

Bentley high tailed it out of the hub and headed full tilt towards the base's fence, it was all coming together now.

Now I'm sure that some of you out there are a little confused as to the sudden success of our airheaded little duo of Murray and Suzy Q, so please allow me to explain. Another little known fact about the rare African herding rhino is their relationship to the color yellow. Much like how a bull becomes enraged at the sight of the color red, a similar effect is seen when the color yellow is introduced to the rare African herding rhino, except the feeling induce is fear. So, after yelling 'til his throat was sore to get the rhinoceri to, he decided, after **a lot** of convincing from his partner, to take a mid-mission break. Suzy Q took her free time to compose a protest song against the government so as to protect the rights of potatoes (here's a sample: "Who are you to criticize? You sit up there and fiddle your lies. All the while, you never smile, turning spuds into fries."), Murray on the other hand had decided that it was time for a quick snack. Imagine their combined surprise when Murray pulled out a banana he'd brought with him to munch on.

Which brings us to now, where Suzy Q was sitting atop the rhino at the head of the heard, while Murray was at the back of the herd, holding up an empty banana peel, yelling, "BOOGA! BOOGA! BOOGA!" The job is not as easy as it sounds however, since the way to Bullet Bay was not the most direct one, many times the stampede came dangerously close to veering off running amok in places other than the base, thankfully Suzy Q was on hand to see that such a tragedy didn't occur. She used her eye lasers to cut down several trees to block off any alternative paths the rhinos could take, although she felt really bad about doing, thank goodness this was all for a good cause or she'd never get any sleep after this was over, not that she actually slept in the conventional sense mind you, but she was programmed to do something that was just as close. But to sum things up, she and Murray would be at Bullet Bay in next to no time at all.

Suzy Q and Murray would be at Bullet Bay in next to no time at all, and that was a severe problem. Bentley had rechecked his binoc-u-com and from what he could fathom with the speed the holographic marker he'd pinpointed to Murray and Suzy Q was moving, he wasn't going to have the time to do things the right way, which meant he had to rush, and he hated rushing things. He wouldn't have the time to open every single power box and dismantle them properly, nor would The Guru have the time to telepathically move all the mines out of the way, and from what he could gather from Suzy Q, there was no way they could slow that stampede down.

So, moving like a bat outta hell (I love that song by Meatloaf), Bentley worked quickly to fasten remote detonated bombs to each of the fence power boxes, and he even sent word to Penelope to use her chopper to help The Guru remove all the land mines. Now there was a reason why Bentley hated rushing things, because when you're in a hurry you often tend to make mistakes, cut corners, in short; do a shoddy job. Even the smallest precautionary measures, such as covering your tracks, or looking over your shoulder every so often, can be over looked.

So you can imagine Bentley's surprise when he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Now this gun did not materialize out of thin air, Bullet Bay was not the sort of place where such instances occur, even though there was a recent rash of rumors going about speaking of ghosts on the rooftops, but no. Bentley was placing a remote bomb on the last fence power box when he became enveloped in a bright light coming from behind him. Logically Bentley turned around to see the light's source, a wildebeest flashlight guard, that's how Bentley came to be staring down the barrel of a gun.

The situation was far from ideal, the thug had the drop on Bentley and they both knew it. Bentley was extremely low on options, he couldn't deploy any gadget that'd dispatch the guard, Penelope was busy helping the Guru, so no chopper was going to swoop down and save him this time, and any sudden movements or calls for help were a guaranteed way to eat lead. However, something happened, something that baffled the turtle with an IQ well over two-hundred, rather than plug an extra air hole right between Bentley's eyes, the horned hitman smiled, pointed his gun in the air and turned his back to the turtle.

Acting on adrenaline and instinct, Bentley wasted no time in deploying his tranquilizer gun and planting several darts into the guard's back, dropping him like a sack of hammers. After which, Bentley took a moment to pause for thought, why had the guard done that? He was a card carrying member of the Clock-la Cult and Bentley was high up on their most wanted list. That guard should've plugged a bullet right in his remarkable and currently confused brain, or at least tried to detain him for interrogation, torture, and what he imagined would be a very slow and painful death. Sadly, as much as he'd like to take time and muse on the enigma, time was one thing he did not have. So focusing on the current dilemma before him, he accessed his binoc-u-com, "Rhino Team, what's your status."

"On your door step dude!" Suzy Q hollered back, smiling brighter than a kid in a candy store, this job certainly beat sweeping up the old lab.

Bentley could not help but feel somewhat awestruck as he turned towards the jungle just in time to see a solid wall of trees collapse and a firm line of unstoppable rhinoceri were moving towards the base's fence with no intention of stopping, no sir, not while the **evil **and **malevolent** yellow colored thing was out get them, and be damned anything that'd get in the way. Well being one of those things that was in the way, Bentley felt obliged to get the hell outta the way. He swiftly deployed his fish pole gadget, attaching it to the unconscious guard's dog tags, then he pressed the nitro boost which and in a burst of rocket powered speed, his chair pulled him forward into safety, dragging the guard into safety as well by dragging him along by his face.

It was there that things began to happen by milliseconds, Bentley pressed the button which detonated the bombs, when the bombs detonated the power boxes blew, when the boxes blew the fence was no long electrified, without the fence electrified the rhinos rushed the fence unharmed, when the rhinos rushed the fence it fell and laid destroyed. Bentley the unclipped himself from the wildebeest guard, leaving him face down in the dirt, and began to head for the rendezvous point, it was mission accomplished.

* * *

**Shady Speak

* * *

**

**The Gabon Coast, Africa 9:33pm**

Sly peeked out and around from his hiding place under one of the jeeps by Bullet Bay's motor pool, and he had to say he was impressed by how spic and span the cars were, they must've been washed earlier that day or something. Finally things were beginning to calm down, after the rhino incident the whole base was on high alert, they were looking for those responsible, but from what Sly could gather from listening in on passing guard squads, the whole incident was begging to be chalked up as a freak accident of stampeding animals and a worst case scenario of faulty machinery. He was still reeling from getting into Bullet Bay all, true with the electric fence and landmines out of the way it should have been a cakewalk, but things remained were far from ideal to get in. General Red put up for a special call to duty, a force of what had to be at least three platoons were sent to the outskirts of the base. Sixty or so trained killers roamed the perimeter of what used to be the fence, and even then there were more guards going out and about, removing debris and escorting the errant rhinos off the base and back into the jungle.

Things were far too busy, it'd be impossible for sly to sneak onto the base. In the end they had to resort to Penelope air lifting Sly into the base, which presented dangers in it's own right. Afraid of a possible air strike, searchlights roamed the skies with AA guns at the ready. If so much as a toe was tapped by moving spotlight, or if a single guard had put a call in after seeing a chopper silhouetted amidst the moonlight, heavy shell fire would've tore through Sly like tissue paper. Fortunately, luck was on his side, as Penelope performed the drop behind enemy lines flawlessly without incident, after which Sly made for the closest cover, which so happened to be the jeep under which he now lay, and he'd stayed put ever since.

Which brings us to now, and the go call that set Sly in motion. "Okay Sly," Bentley said over the binoc-u-com, "The coast is clear…I think"

"You "think"?" Sly echoed back skeptically.

"Which brings us to your first task, you've got some time before General Red meets with those cult V.I.P.s, I need you to run a few quick errands."

"Right, because breaking into the house of a man who bench presses trucks isn't nearly dangerous enough."

"Hey, you only have to worry about that if you get caught. Besides, name one time when have my plans ever gone awry?"

"The Anubis head job in St. Louis."

"Okay that's not fair, besides how was I supposed to know the mobster's girlfriend would still be in the bedroom, he was talking to his wife in the next room for crying out loud! Besides, she never woulda saw you if you'd done what I'd suggested."

"Throw her out the window!?"

"Murray was pulling up with the mattress truck, she would've been fine, a little bump and that's all."

"We were eight stories up, that's not "little"."

"You say tomato, I say to-mato, now are we going to start this mission or what?"

"Okay Bentley, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, the reason why I said "I think" is because I've lost radio information from the communications hub. Something must be interfering with my bug, I need you to check out what it is then check back with me, okay?"

"Read you loud and clear Bentley, I find what's bugging your bug in no time flat."

"You know, I expect lame puns like that from Murray, you could try to do better."

"Hey, I thought it was "**pun**-ny"."

"I'm not even gonna dignify that one with a response," Bentley said as he closed the line.

Sly came out from under the jeep and looked around, the sound of marching feet echoing in the distance. Wanting quick access to the rooftops, Sly wasted no time in find a viable means by which to do so. Being the ever imaginative type, Sly looked around, and where most people would see a pile of horribly over inflated tires lying under a storm gutter, he saw a stairway. Sly took a running start and jumped on the tires, which sagged at first but then sprung Sly just high enough for him to catch his cane on the gutter, from there it was just a bit of good old fashioned upper body strength and he'd gained access to the roof tops.

Looking around at the skyline of Bullet Bay, it hit home to Sly just how notoriously annoying this mission could get. After light, the greatest enemy any thief can face is lack of cover, and he let out a slight sigh at the fact that he could see clear across to almost any roof top on base, the bland, uniform, one size fits all design of the buildings providing little to no cover. Sly could easily see why having radio surveillance on all guards all the time would be so crucial at a place like this. He'd have to rely majorly on the gloom of night and the misdirection of the guards if he was not to be detected. The same misdirection, for instance, that just so happened to be present in a somewhat skittish guard that occupied the same rooftop as Sly.

Thanking his lucky stars that the guard was facing away whilst staring at the guy, Sly was seventy-two percent sure that it was the same hyena guard he'd encountered the night before. The fact that he kept looking down at the roof's shingles as if they were about to start moving under his feet brought the probability of this being the same guy up to a decent eighty-six percent assurance. So being a real rotten and quiet kind of guy, Sly sauntered up behind the guy without making a sound and whispered into his ear, "Good evening."

Using the guard's sharp intake of breath as a go signal, Sly gave the guard a good natured shove over the edge and into a mud puddle below. Sly became one hundred percent sure that this was the was the same exact guard when he pulled his face up out of the mud and started shrieking at the top of his lungs, "IT'S BACK! IT'S BACK!"

Sly began to chuckle to himself at his random act of mischief, that was until he heard the sound of marching feet. He got low to the roof as a small crowd arranged themselves around the hysterical guard on the ground, the miniature mob listening intently as he described how he saw "the ghost" this time, a red skinned, razor toothed demon with a hook shaped tail. Now as nonsensical and far from the truth as this description was, it had drawn the attention of all the guards in the area, clearing up several nearby roof tops, which was something Sly had not expected, so he was more than content to file this incident under "happy accidents".

Returning to a mission state of mind, Sly made sure not to waste such a stroke of luck, and made his way towards the communications hub, which wasn't far from the motor pool. So making brilliant use of the guard free rooftops, various flag poles and numerous power lines, Sly found himself on a building across the way from the communications hub. He was about to jump on the power line leading to the hub's roof when he paused to stare at a rather interesting sight; slinking out of the shadows was a Private Kitsune Law, Sly recognized her from the binoc-u-com video of The Grinder. Now as much of a rude and spiteful woman the skunk cold be, even Sly had to admit that there was something generally familiar and likable about her hair and the way she walked. Of course her likable saunter was gone for the moment as she seemed to be keeping low to the ground, looking to shiftily to the left and right (thankfully for Sly's sake, never up). From her secretive demeanor Sly would guess that she was up to no good, which in a place like Bullet Bay probably meant she was doing her job. However if the answer was the former or the latter, Sly really didn't see the importance, which why he was content to file this incident under "don't know, don't care".

Sly kept low and waited for the Pt. Law to slink off out of eye sight before returning to work. He jumped and landed on the thin wire as expertly as any trapeze artist, walking the high wire with ease. In less than half a minute Sly was on top of the comm. hub once more which left him to scale the radio tower once again. Sly went once more to the lowest hanging and hooked his cane along it, pulling himself up.

In less than the time it took to tie one's shoes, Sly was up at the top of the tower. Once there he could see why the bug wasn't giving out any info, it'd been smashed into a million pieces, and amongst the green and splintered remains of Bentley's device, someone'd placed a bug of their own.

"Uh, Bentley?" Sly said, opening a binoc-u-com line, "I think I might've found your bug problem."

"Oh, that's a shame," Bentley replied wistfully as Sly held up several pieces of bug shrapnel for Bentley to see.

"And it looks like our mysterious friends from last night left us a gift," Sly said as he lifted up the small, generic, and generally ugly little metal box.

"**Ugh!** They destroyed my bug and replaced it with **that?**"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Oh nothing, except fourteen months old and outdated like crazy. It's generally the latest state of the art and sold mostly to armies and police, but that's on the legitimate market, on the black market it is strictly bottom of the barrel, we are clearly not dealing with professionals here."

"Do you want me to smash it?"

Bentley thought on this prospect for a second, "Hmm…no. If we did, our mysterious friends would probably just return and place another one here. Just replace our broken bug and leave the other one be."

"Uh, how? I don't know how to repair your gadgets, besides this one looks pretty smashed."

"No, no, no, I placed a spare bug in your side pouch."

"Wait you were messing with my stuff? When?"

"When you weren't looking."

"And when was that?"

"Details, details, details, Sly, you really don't need too many of them in your life, they'll only just worry you."

"Uh huh," Sly said as he reached into his side pouch and removed the turtle's small, green device, "and are there any other liberties you've taken with my stuff that I should know about?"

"Now Sly, that would be telling, and that'd only ruin the surprise."

"Right, well I've got my eye on you."

"Okay, Mr. Paranoid, once you get done there I need you to go see the Panda King, he's got a current listing of troop schedules and this month's list of important events, he's waiting for your rendezvous outside the officer's lounge."

"Yep, that's me, Sly Cooper, errand boy extraordinaire."

Sly placed the device and received confirmation from Bentley that the Cooper Gang once again had gained radio surveillance on all of Bullet Bay. He also heard an all too familiar ping as the officer's lounge was marked by a blue holographic marker. Sly looked to see that the officer's lounge was wasn't far from General Red's house, in fact it was one of the first building one would come across when exiting the premises of The General's house. Judging the height of the radio tower, which was tall enough to catch the occasional cloud on particularly muggy mornings, and the direction of the wind that night, which was pulling in the general direction of his destination, Sly smiled, relieved that he needn't go have to return to ground level, or even rooftop level to reach his destination.

Sly leapt from the radio tower, and before gravity got hold of him and made street pizza ala raccoon, Sly pulled out his paraglider, the large cloth easily catching the air. Sly leaned forward, moving towards the officer's lounge, drifting soundlessly over the guards below, the wind at his back greatly aiding his progress. Within minutes Sly had made a potentially long, secretive, and dangerous journey across the guard filled base with not but a single jump.

Coming in a little too high, Sly made several circles about the building known as the officer's lounge, so as not to make a sound from merely dropping on the roof. Once low enough, Sly retracted the paraglider, landing and making a sound no louder than the snap of one's fingers, something that could easily be lost amongst the loud sounds of revelry that came from within the building. Sly then got low to the building as a simple precaution and crept along the roof's edge, finding The Panda King in his "grizzly" disguise leaning against the wall next to the lounge's front door, a hay colored corncob smoking pipe stuck between his lips.

"I didn't know you smoked," Sly said from the roof.

The Panda King was startled at the sudden question, he slightly jumped and looked around before looking up to see Sly peeking down at him over the roof's edge. "I don't," he answered, leaning back against the wall once more, "It's a gift from Jing King," he then blew into the pipe and several bubbles exited it, floating in the air for a moment before popping.

"Christmas?" Sly asked.

"Chinese New Year," the bear corrected.

"Well I hear tell that you've got a nice little present for me."

The Panda King reached into his shirt and pulled out a collection of papers rolled up newspaper style and held together by a rubber band. The bear wasted no time in throwing the collection of papers up to Sly.

"Oh, by the way," Sly started, catching the bundle in midair with the hook end of his cane, "I saw your girlfriend not too long ago."

"Girlfriend?"

"Oh, you know, pretty little thing, dark blue hair, brown eyes, ten types of creepy, has a thing for staring at you."

"Hmph, Law. Your sense of humor is lacking Cooper."

It was at that moment that they abruptly heard the heavy footfalls of someone marching towards them. Sly retreated back into the darkness of the rooftop, while the Panda King did his best to look innocent (fat chance of **that** working though). From out of the shadows, looking mad as hell, was none other than Private Kitsune Law. She made a beeline for the lounge's door, but stopped when she caught sight of the Panda King.

"What are **you** doing?" she more snottily demanded than asked.

"I'm leaking important information to Sly Cooper," he replied honestly, "he's on top of the roof as we speak."

"Fine, whatever," she said, ignoring what she thought was sarcasm, making her way to the door, "I don't have time for this…idiot."

"Oh yeah," Sly said once Law entered the noisy lounge, "I can already see the flowers of true love blooming between you two."

The Panda King looked up and gave Sly a look of disgust and resentment, as if he'd just been force fed sour milk. He then put his pipe away and growled, "I'm getting a drink," entering the lounge and leaving Sly alone outside.

Sly checked his watch and saw that he didn't have long before General Red was to meet with the cult V.I.P.s, it was time to head to the house. Sly jumped down from the lounge's roof and quickly made his way into the shadows. Preferring the cover of darkness (go figure), Sly kept to the shadows as he made his way towards General Red's house, keeping his distance from the well lit, heavily guarded, and constantly monitored road (as crazy as that idea sounds).

Using these covert tactics Sly soon found himself standing at the edge of the seven feet high, four feet thick wall of hedges encircled the three story building that General Red called home. Not wanting to rush in and get a well deserved bullet between the eyes, Sly dropped to the ground and crept as silently as he could under the bushes to take a peek at just what exactly he was going up against.

Things being what they were, it was not the best situation he'd ever encountered, yet not entirely hopeless either, it'd be a work out, no questions there. For starters, the entire inner perimeter was being patrolled hyena guards, the back door was heavily lit and well guarded, and the front was even worse, you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting musclemen, the lightest concentration of guards, as usual, existed on the roof, four zebra snipers place at each corner of the house, of course this is all not counting the number of guys that could be in the house. Then to pile more icing on the cake, Sly took a miniature spray bottle out of his side pouch, shooting out a fine water mist that caught the red light of various infrared lasers the crisscrossed the house's lawn. Not to mention the windows were of an old style, with multicolored stained glass inset at the top, they weren't going to open, and he didn't even want to fathom the number of alarms that'd go off or the kind of hell sure to follow if he smashed it.

General Red sure knew how to set up a decent security array, it was certainly a warm welcome if you were the suicidal type, but Sly was a never say never kinda guy and, well, he never said never (it's sort of in the description). There was a glimmer of hope however, and it existed on the house's eastern front, this was the side that General Red's vegetable garden was on, to the side of the house away from the heavy guards that existed at the front and back, the garden practically stretched from the hedge wall to the house. In Sly's experience, the vegetable garden usually held a soft spot for whomever owned it, it existed as a private quiet little world, far away from the woes of the world, very rarely does someone allow something so heartless something so cynical, insensitive, and heartless as a laser array to come across it, there were also rumors that lasers ruined your carrots. And the piece de la resistance, there was a trellis that ran up this side of the house, laden with vines that ran in and out of the framework. In the back of the Thievious Raccoonis, there is a glossary, and the phrase ""trellis," adj.; "laden with vines"" is described with "please see; "ladders"".

'Which leaves me to deal with the perimeter guards,' Sly thought to himself as he watched the hyena's boots trample back and forth through the grass. He watched the guards feet, getting a feel for the time in which he'd have to take action until he'd get spotted, he decided the situation called for his world famous ventriloquist act. To start with, any good ventriloquist act begins with a dummy, wooden or otherwise, and one such thing presented itself patrolling near the zucchinis. Sly watched the footsteps and marching patterns of his prey's associates, he counted that he had fifty-three seconds to act without being seen, and whilst fifty-three seconds to you or me might not be long at all, but to someone like Sly, it's all the time in the world.

The last witness turned his back on the zucchinis. That's when the clock started. Sly reached out his cane and tripped up the guard, two seconds. Dropping his cane momentarily, Sly grabbed hold of the guard's legs and pulled him under the bushes making sure to keep his face in the dirt and not allowing him to alert his buddies to his plight, ten seconds. Sly then grabbed the hyena by the head and slammed him into the ground over and over again until the guard stopped moving, twenty-two seconds. Sly then moved quickly to get the guard's arms tucked at his sides in his shirt, thirty-one seconds, after that Sly then ripped the back of the guard's shirt strait up the middle, making sure not to tear all the way, stopping the tear at the center between the hyena's shoulder blades, thirty-six seconds. Sly then got out from under the bushes and got up, forty seconds, grabbing the guard from under the bushes, and putting his own arms through the guard's empty sleeves, pulling the hyena's back to his own chest, forty-five seconds. He then spun the hyena himself around, pressing himself back into the hedges as far as he could go, using the guard's body to conceal himself, forty-seven seconds. Sly then took a quick moment to dust the dirt away from the guard's shirt front, whilst kicking the hyena's legs into a position that hopefully made the guard look like he was leaning back, fifty seconds. Sly finished up by folding "the guard's" arms across his chest, fifty-one seconds, the illusion was complete with two seconds to spare.

Two seconds later, Bud, a perimeter guard, noticed a very strange sight, one of his partners, Lou, in patrolling the vegetable garden must have lost his mind, because he now leaned back against General Red's hedges, an offense that easily earned three hours at the beating poles, but he was also directly shirking his duties, something the General tended to get a lot more maniacally creative over. "Lou!" Bud whispered desperately to his clearly suicidal friend, "What are you doing?! You know Marx had to sit in a tub of ice in the meat freezer with a plate of warm food constantly kept out of his reach for a full two days, just because he was late for his guard shift! General Red is right inside that house; he could be looking out here any minute! And he's been really grouchy lately, please don't do this to yourself!"

"…Take a hike," Lou sharply replied in a rude and gruff tone of voice, it didn't sound right.

"Are you okay Lou?" Bud asked, slightly offended but still worried.

"I'm perfectly fine. You on the other hand seem to be afflicted with severe stupidity **and** ugliness, on top of being deaf. Take a **hike!**" at this point Lou made a series of hand gestures which are often blurred out on TV, their meaning being rather descriptive and somewhat unsavory.

"Fine, what do I care? When you get in the hospital, tell Marx I said "hi"…***hole."

Sly waited for Bud to return to his regular routine and another time space of fifty-three seconds before making his move. Once the timer started again, Sly sleeved Lou's arms and placed his hands in his pockets, leaving him to continue to look like he was snoozing on the job. Sly then retrieved his cane from under the hedges and made a dash across the garden and up the trellis, the only evidence of his presence being an unfortunate and trampled upon eggplant.

Sly clambered up the trellis, climbing up to the roof's edge stopping only to peek and take stock of the situation on the roof. There was a skylight that seemed to lead to the third floor, where The General office probably was. But to cut the glass or simply smash it would definitely draw the attention of the four snipers, who would probably call in spotting public enemy number one as a standard before trying to take his head off. He needed to bring Bentley in on this trick.

Sly climbed down the trellis a little bit, so as not to be disturbed during his conversation, "Bentley, you there?"

"Nope, no one here but us chickens," the turtle replied over the binoc-u-com.

""Chicken" huh? Well I guess it's a change from "honey"."

"Shut it, what's on your mind?"

"How do the guards' walkie-talkies work?"

"Actually, Murray and Suzy Q just finished talking to our hyena friend in the brig on just that subject. Apparently all standard guard communications are routed through the radio tower."

"He told you that?"

"You just need to know how to ask things in just the right way."

"And **you **know how to ask the right way?"

"No, but Murray does," the turtle admitted, the sound of cracking knuckles faintly being heard in the background.

"Could you use that bug I planted to block all radio transmissions?"

"Yes, but shutting it down would alert Bullet Bay to our presence, it wouldn't take 'em long to track down our pirate ship Sly."

"I'm not saying to shut it down permanently, but for a minute or so."

"I suppose I could, but what exactly are you planning?"

"Nothing much, just playing a little bit of Simon Says."

"Okay shutting it down now, you have two minutes."

"Two minutes? I thought you had confidence in me."

Sly closed the line and got on the roof. He ran to the center and threw down an alarm clock gadget, the shrill sound of bells instantly drawing the four guards attention, Simon Says "look over here". As a reflex they all instantly went for their walkie-talkie, telling those listening about the sensational news that Sly Cooper was among them, at least they would have if Bentley hadn't blocked all radio communications, Simon Says "shut up". Sly then threw down a smoke bomb, taunting the zebras all the while, "Figures, wusses like you morons would have someone else go after me. Shame too, Clock-la probably would have rewarded whoever caught me." At this, the zebras were not going to allow this golden goose to get away, all of them rushed into the smoke, poor saps, Simon Says "walk into the smoke". By the time the smoke cleared from the roof, Sly was already using one of the guard's keycards to open the skylight and go down the stairs therein, leaving four very hurt and **very** unconscious zebras on the roof, Simon Says "go see a doctor".

Sly crept down the stairs, taking his time so as not to incur the wrath of any possible creaky floorboards. Once at the bottom of the stairs he found himself in a hallway which turned sharply to the right. Peeking around the corner, Sly found what could probably be assumed to be General Red's office, considering it's on the top floor, has a fancy oaken door with golden handles, and had six hyena guards, all armed to the teeth, conversing about how lucky they were to be allowed to even see General Red's office.

This was a problem, there was absolutely no way that he could discreetly get into that office. It was possible that he could go down to the door, loosen the teeth in each guard's head, and waltz in the office, saying that he **wasn't** Sly Cooper, just a very good look alike. Yeah, and after he did that, he'd call up Clock-la and convince her to forget this whole "take over the world business" and then they'd all go on a nice big picnic. But somehow, despite the plan being as brilliant and flawless as it was, he just couldn't see it working.

The problem was the guards, even if he could lure a few guards away with the alarm clock gadget, there'd still be a few who'd remain to alert anyone in that office that there were hijinks going about. It was about this time that Sly felt rather cold. Looking about, Sly found that the source of his "cool" disposition came from an air vent on the wall to his right. Sly smiled to himself as the answer to his dilemma blew out cool air, "It's like dad used to say, when all other means are spent…vent."

Sly reached into his side pouch and pulled out a screwdriver that he'd recently begun to carry on his person at all times, a habit which he'd picked up since Antarctica. He reached up and undid the screws which held the grille to the wall, placing it silently to the floor. He then crawled inside and made his way to General Red's office.

When he made his way inside the office vents, Sly stooped at the grille that gave him the best possible view of the room, and his heart stopped dead at what he saw. Inside what he saw could have been any number of rotten duos, Wolfman and Frankenstein, Fred and Barney, heck, even Alien and Predator if they could keep their hands off one another, any one of those teams, and Sly would've been able to take it in stride. Unfortunately, what sat in two rather nice and probably expensive chairs in front of what could presumably be called General Red's desk was two faces he'd not expected to see, both of whom he first saw in Clock-la's entourage backin in London; the "#1" kangaroo, and the raven named Edgar, the one who killed Raleigh. The idea that two more members of the Fiendish Five were on base was alarming, their presence could mean the end of this mission by tonight, and as these two were somewhat terrible on their own Sly could not help that one rather unpleasant face was missing from the scene.

Sly's confusion at the location of General Red was short lived however, as the one and only army ant stepped through the door. "Sorry to keep you two waiting," General Red said, making his way towards his chair, his face momentarily obscured, as the desk actually came up to his hairline. "I just got done talking on the phone with Clock-la," the ant continued once he got in his chair and could see eye to eye with his fellow Fiendish Five members.

"It is guut to see you herr general," Edgar said, tipping his hat.

"Yeah, top o' the mornin' and all that," the lady kangaroo said with an Irish brogue.

"Morning?" The General said in mock confusion, "At this time of night?"

"Eh, got t' be mornin' some'ere," she answered shrugging her shoulders

"So, I understand zat somesing to your fence, correct?" the bird questioned.

"Ah that is such a pain," General Red said, a look of frustration evident on his face, "Apparently, from what I was allowed to gather is that bunch of rhinos went berserk."

"What yer "allowed ta"?" the kangaroo said confused, "I thought this 'ere was yer base, ay?"

"Yeah, but that **worm**Cobalt went behind my back as usual, and made it so that **he's** the one who's in charge of investigating what happened to **my** fence. I didn't even want that damn fence on the base because things like this could happen. I told her we needed a concrete wall, but no."

"I take it zat you ont Cobalt 'ave come to no agreement?"

"Heh, heh, no."

"Ont zat is vhy?"

"He's a slimeball, bible thumpin', watchdog piece of garbage, and if I had my way, I'd personal plat a bullet in his head, and he knows it."

"Eh," the lady began nonchalantly, "ye got no one t' blame yerself there Reddy boy. It's yer own checkered past with higher ups that calls fer a watchdog."

"I can understand and almost respect that. It's the fact that at almost every turn he's running off and crying to Clock-la on how I'm being too hard on him and going too soft on the troops by allowing them free time. Get this, one day he ran off to complain that I'm giving the troops too much to eat, and I catch the slime eating a steak and lobster lunch, he'd smuggled it in and tried to say that it was a gift from Clock-la herself."

At this the lady snorted, "That was a bad move. So wha' did you do t' 'im?"

When met with this question, a look of undeniable anger flooded General Red's face, "That's the worst part, since he's Clock-la's eyes and ears here in Bullet Bay, I can't actually punish him, the worst I can do is order him to do some meaningless and mind numbing task. Same goes for any flunkies he dictates are essential to his task, which is the entire wildebeest division, gutless rats."

"Must be difficult to run a base under such conditions," the raven interjected.

"Don't I know it? He's turned a lot of men against me, and I've lost control of the bay guns due to him. He's an ambitious little turd, I'll give him that."

"Really?" the kangaroo questioned, "'Ow so?"

"The other day I caught him in here, sizing up the office, and ever since old Doc Burger got pinched, he's been taking every opportunity to suck up and make himself look pretty."

"Ha, ha, HA! Yeah 'e's a greedy un alright."

"Ze boy is living in a pipe dream if he sinks zat Clock-la vould offer the guut doktor's place to him," the raven concluded.

"And why's that then?"

"It vould be an admittance of vrong doing, a sign of veakness, a sign ve cannot avford to make."

"Uh oh, looks like Edgar wants us chap on about, as 'e'd say, "vork". Listen Reddy, it's been quite the bit of a trip, ay, and I've got a hunger that's burnin' from my gut t' my gob. Got anythin' t' eat 'round 'ere?"

"Sure thing dollface, kitchen's on the first floor, but my chef's gone off shift, you'll have to cook for yourself."

""Dollface"?" the kangaroo said as she got up and headed for the door, "Well aren't you awfully cheeky. Oh, and before I forget, I completely agree with…eenie, meanie, miney, Reddy."

General Red waited for the lady to leave the room before rounding on the bird, "Okay, Edgar, time to answer some questions. What're you two doing here?"

"Vell, it is just zat vith Doktor Burger gone, ze lady is somevhat concerned," Edgar said calmly.

"Concerned?"

"Yes, zat's vright."

"Afraid that I'm going to run?"

"Nien, you be dead if zat vere ze case."

"Then what's she concerned about?"

"To be perfektly honest, afraid of ze Cooper."

"That string bean slime?"

"Ah, ah, ah, zat "bean" vonce defeated our lady."

"Yeah, but that was years ago."

"Nonzeless, he haz dealt a heavy blow vith ze doktor's defeat. Many members have left vith Burger's imprizonmet, ont you are a far more prominent member zan he, imagine vhat vould occur vith your defeat, especially vith ze lady's speech so soon. Ont Sly Cooper iz notorious for showing up at ze vorst of times."

"So you two are here to babysit me?"

"If it pleazes you to sink so, yes."

"It doesn't."

"Vell, it iz only an offer, an olive branch, ze lady haz left ze final decizion in your hands."

"Well, if that's case, then-"

"Ont before you do," Edgar interrupted earnestly, "pleaze permit me to speak."

"…Go ahead."

"…In ze original Viendish Vive, after zere greatest victory, ze capture of ze Thievious Raccoonis, zey split into various locations of ze globe, each to build moderately successful criminal empirez, each becoming zere own veritable name in ze vorld of crime. But ze greatest veakness zey faced, ze source of zere downfall vas-"

"Sly Cooper, heard it a million times."

"Nien, ze source of zere downfall lay in a lack of comradery, vonce zey had gotten vhat zey vanted, zey abandoned vone anozer, ont as such, vone by vone, zey fell to a mere boy vith a cane in hiz hand ont a cap on hiz head. So you see vhy ve are here mien general."

"…And I say whether you two stay or go?"

"Zat iz correct, yes."

"…This is my base, and I run it the way I see fit. Now if some pencil necked punk with a stick in his hand comes to **my** base, messes with **my** men, and tries to make **me **look stupid, **I **handle it. Now I appreciate the gesture, but I'm afraid that your services won't be needed. Is there anything else?"

"Not for ze moment, no."

"Then I expect you guys to be heading out by daybreak."

"I vouldn't have it any ozer vay."

Sly waited a little bit longer in the air vent to see if any more subjects of crucial importance would come up in conversation. Sadly however, from talk of the travel to the base, preference in foods, and what color the kangaroo's underwear may be (incidentally it was yellow, they agreed it to be blue), Sly discerned that the two were now only going to engage in small talk, it was time to head back to base. His plan for extraction was relatively simple, get out of the vent, go up the stairs, make it to the jungle, and head to the ship. Simple, sweet, and easy to conduct.

Unfortunately, as easy the plan was on paper, and, well, everywhere else, it hit a small snag. He got out of the vent, and went up the stairs, but it was about the third phase of the plan that things began to go south. You see, Sly had reached the roof and was surprised, understandably so, to feel a severe pain in his jaw as someone introduced their knee to his face, the meeting was far from jovial. The blow was powerful, painful, and even knocked out two of his back teeth. He waited for the little birdies fluttering about his eyes to hit the bricks before looking for the one responsible for knocking the taste out of his mouth, which just so happened to be the kangaroo from the room below…you know in retrospect, the snag wasn't nearly as small as I'd lead you to believe.

"Well, well, well," the lady began, putting her dukes up, "I thought I 'eard a rat crawling about in the vents, and it's a big'un too."

Sly waited a moment to speak, seeing as he had to spit out the mixture of blood, spittle and missing teeth that had mysteriously formed in his mouth (well, not **mysteriously **but it did make it somewhat messy to speak). "_PTEW!_ Well that's an awfully interesting way to say hello."

"Eh, I like t' keep thin's somat in'erestin'."

"…What?"

"I said I like t' keep-"

""Thin's somat in'erestin'"."

"Yeah, s'right."

"Okay what? Listen, I work with a koala that doesn't speak a lick of English, and he's so much more understandable than you. Are you trying to speak English? Is that it?"

"'Ay, I think I spe'k pretty good En'lish."

"No you don't, that's kind of where the confusion's coming from."

"Wha'ever."

"I gotta ask," Sly began with a grin at the upcoming classic line, "what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Workin' fer Clock-la? Eh, what kin I say? The hours're good, the pay's respectable like, and it beats flippin' patties. 'Sides what other gig let's me knock the teeth outta **yer** gob?"

"There's a fox I know who asks herself the same question, I should introduce you, you'd get along just fine."

"S'all right, sure, just as soon's as I git done smashin' yer face in."

"Yup, get along just fine." Now as much Sly's somewhat calm demeanor may lead you to believe that he was unafraid of the red headed woman standing before him, allow me to enlighten you to the contrary, he was scared out of his mind. In between sentences, Sly was involuntarily tonguing the empty spaces in his gums where he **used** to have teeth not five seconds ago, and to further complicate matters, he kept having to tighten the grip he held on his cane, as the sweat from his palms made his grip somewhat slick, despite wearing his gloves. This lady, well to be blunt, this lady hit **hard**.

Now Sly was not a connoisseur for getting knocked upside his head, but it certainly was not the first time he'd been hit in the face, and to be honest, he was astounded that he was still awake, even though nothing would probably taste right for a while. He'd never seen **anyone **hit as hard as she did. In fact, the only one that came close was Murray, back in the Contessa's prison where he'd been head tripped into grinding Sly's bones to make his bread. During that entire unpleasant fiasco, Murray was in high end, full tilt, "kill everything that moves" mode, this girl on the other hand, she had come extremely close to landing a knockout blow on the first hit, and from Sly could tell, by looking at the smirk on her face and the lax stance in her legs, she wasn't even trying.

Now as much posturing and bluffing Sly was doing by not breaking down, clutching his jaw, and screaming "ARGH! MY FACE!", it's somewhat humorous to think that Sly had no intention of fighting this woman, and the greatest card Sly held was the fact that she didn't know this. Which is why when Sly made a move like he was about to rush her, which was something she had about twenty-three ways of dealing with, fifteen of them involving lethal force, instead of following through on the physical threat, Sly reached into his side pouch and threw down a smoke bomb.

Instantly, as the small pop of the relatively simple device was heard, as soon as it's wispy and opaque contents obscured the kangaroo's view of Sly and vice versa, the raccoon made a break to the left. Now there was a reason as to why Sly picked this direction, in fact there's two of them, the first being that it was the direction that went straight towards the jungle, aside from the one or two building between that roof and the trees that secured Sly's freedom, the second reason being that it was a direction **other** straight ahead. In Sly's experiences with clouds of smoke, guards, nine times out of ten, afraid of losing the elusive raccoon will run straight forward through to the other side of the smoke, now there's no real explanation Sly can give to explain as to why this is, it's just something guards do. However, when this phenomenon occurs, it benefits greatly **not** to be in the same place, or even run in the opposite direction. Was it brave or noble? No, but so far it's been an extremely effective means of dealing with most riffraff.

Now, there is a reason why I used the qualifying word "most" in the last sentence, seeing as not long after the throwing of the smoke bomb Sly encountered a prime example as to why the word riffraff did not exactly fit to describe his opposition. Sly was making his grand dash for the roof's edge, his fingers just itching to deploy the paraglider which would secure his entrance to?...Well let's not always see the same hands now…yes, the jungle, that's right. Sly was just a few scant steps from the edge, subconsciously beginning to crouch for his leap, when something caught his throat. Now I'm not saying like as he ran, he had his mouth open and a beetle flew down the wrong tube, no. I'm saying that a certain lady kangaroo ran up behind him, grabbed him by the throat, picked him up by that very same crucial part of the body along with the back of his shirt, and flung him back into the smoke which had yet to dissipate or even entirely exit from the device which Sly himself had thrown down.

Using his somewhat exceptional agility, and with a little bit of luck, Sly twisted in the air and landed on his feet, kinda like a cat or Einstein (few people knew that about him), aside from the fact that he coughed as he forced air into his lungs and touched his free hand to the nice, shiny, new bruise about his neck. Sly quickly stopped seeing to these minor injuries, now was not the time for sitting about and crying about scabby knees, rhetorically speaking, now was far too dire a situation for such distractions, not rhetorically speaking.

The only problem was that for all accounts, the girl was gone. He knew that she was still on the roof of course, it'd be silly to think otherwise, and of course he wasn't the sort to rely on eyesight alone, but he should have at least been able to **hear** her. Let me tell you something about Sly Cooper, he without a doubt has one of the sharpest senses of hearing on the face of the Earth, and understandably so, when his profession is taken into account. But it is an amazing thing, freak of nature sort of stuff, bordering on miraculous, when Sly Cooper concentrates those astounding ears of his. He can literally (and this is no exaggeration) hear a flea jump from one blade of grass to another, give an accurate description of a humming bird's heartbeat, hear the click of unlocking tumblers on a three foot thick steel, **and** he can accomplish all this **without** the use of a stethoscope or any other sound aiding devices. His ears are **that** good.

The disconcerting part of this was the fact that as amazing as Sly's ears were, he heard nothing. Of course heard the hiss of the smoke bomb as it expelled the last vestiges of smoke from within itself, as well as he heard one guard at the front of the house complain how Col. Cobalt got him banned from the enlisted men's and the officer's lounges. But as hard as he strained his hearing, entering a state of concentration most martial arts experts would be proud of, he could not, not matter how hard he tried, **absolutely could not** hear where the lady kangaroo was. No footsteps, no breathing, **nothing**, it was as if she were a ghost or was never there at all.

Then it happened. Sly was trying to hear for her, trying but failing, when he sensed a presence, but from where he did not know. He then felt the warmth of her breath as she whispered these words into his ear, "You tried to run, cheeky blighter." Knowing that she was behind him, out of a mixture of instinct and fear, Sly spun around and cracked his cane against…nothing, there was nothing there once more, at least that's ears were telling him once again, and they had just become somewhat faulty as the heavy sound of his own heart beating on high end began to obscure his hearing slightly.

The smoke finally began to clear up, which allowed Sly some visibility, but ultimately this turn of events was somewhat ineffectual as the lady saw fit to end the fight there and then. This grandstand of pain and punishment began with a running punch that cut across the other side of Sly's face and intensified Sly's already somewhat profound feeling of slight concussion. Luckily for Sly, the girl now stood in front of him, using what strength he could summon, desperation fueling actions and his adrenal glands functioning to put his speed and strength at top gear, Sly ran forward, bringing his cane back for a baseball swing that'd put some major league batters to shame, at least the ones that didn't use horse steroids (do they even exist?). Sadly however, as powerful as the blow was, which incidentally was strong enough to shatter bones and turn bricks into powder, it was not strong enough and certainly not fast enough to effectively strike his assailant. The girl easily caught the two handed blow with one hand, grabbing the cane with ease, pulling Sly towards her in an easy and fluid motion, allowing her free hand to do…**something**.

It's hard to explain, many times in review of this night Sly could not accurately describe what occurred, all he knew was that the girl reached out towards his left underarm, pressing into several exact points in his muscles with her fingertips, and when she'd stepped away, his arm had fallen to his side, as limp and useless as a wet noodle, and any effort to get it in motion caused incredible pain. In a move of even further desperation, Sly struck out his cane in one working arm he had left, which was disabled in the same manner, as well as give the girl the leverage needed to flip him flat onto his face, causing him to drop his cane in the commotion.

Sly wasn't on the ground for long however, as the lady delivered a kick to his stomach which painfully lifted him off the ground and put him back onto his feet. Sly was barely conscious, to say that he was standing only meant gravity hadn't got to him yet, his eyes only staying open out of a primal fear of not knowing what could occur should they close, he was in trouble. This fact however, failed to move the lady kangaroo, or at least failed to move her from moving, which is to say the woman continued to move, undaunted by any moral obligations, towards the master thief. Sly stared at the woman's right fist through charcoaled eyes, watching it tighten for the briefest moment before it became nothing but an unidentifiable blur that swiftly moved towards his face, sending him flipping through the air, his flight ending with him once again face down on the roof.

Sly lay defeated before his opponent, cringing at the sound of each footstep the woman continued to take towards him despite this fact. Tremors of pain shot through his body as the woman used her foot to turn Sly over onto his back, after which she lightly dusted away some of the dirt that had accumulated on his shirt front, setting a nice clean seat for herself on Sly's chest.

"And ta think," she said as she settled her toosh on his beaten and broken body, "**You** once put one over on t' boss lady. Not much of a screama like most uns, gotta give ye that."

If Sly had the ability to speak coherently at the moment, he might've commented on how lucky he felt to receive the compliment.

"Oh, an' I'm sure yer little friends are probably worried 'alf t' death about you."

Sly wasn't one hundred percent sure on that, he did however vaguely recognize the sound of Bentley shouting out orders on the other end of the binoc-u-com, but the words were far away and sounded alien.

"An' as I'm sure they're probly earin' in on all o' dis, they can put their minds t' rest. If I know General Red, and I 'appen t' know 'im rather well, 'e'll want this t' be a private soirée, and as such, I'm going to let 'im discover you on 'is own terms, I'm not even gonna let 'im know yer up here, I'm just gonna leave ya up 'ere fer yer friends to pickup, an' if thin's go the way I think they will, I'll be 'eadin' 'ome by day break. So…g'night." **POW!

* * *

**

Sly swam in darkness, the last blow knocking him over the line and into unconsciousness. In his sleep, Sly had a dream. He was eight years old again, and his clothes didn't fit him well. He floated in darkness, no, he wasn't in darkness, he was in the dark closet of his old house's den, where his-

"OH PLEASE!" came a woman's voice from out of the shadows, continuing to berate with a slight southern drawl to it, "You don' mean to tell me that every time you pass out, **this** is where you return to!"

In an instant, the closet door snapped shut on the den where some atrocity was sure to occur. The eight year old Sly rubbed his nose as the door slightly smacked it in the swiftness it took to close.

"Please, come in."

The closet door opened once more, but the venue onto which it opened was entirely new. The place was a far cry from normality which was present in his father's den, the place was unreal, you couldn't shake a stick without hitting a silk pillow or satin drapes. The few places that weren't covered pillows or frilly cloth betrayed the existence of a dirt floor and wood and clay walls. And the few places that had neither, there lay tarot cards, spent thread spools, sewing needles, burnt out candles, and Mardi Gras beads, in summation, the place was a chaotic mess.

The only exception to the tornado wreck the room resembled was a single round and wooden table that sat at the center of the circular room. Taking a few unsure and tentative steps into the strange room, Sly looked about, not sure if abandoning the familiarity of the closet was the best idea. There was perfume in the air, and not just one type. He could tell as his nose was engulfed in thick and heavy waves of alluring scents which seemed to cloud Sly's concentration and make his movements somewhat slow and lethargic. Uncertainty increased several times over when the closet door closed of it's own volition once Sly hard gone far enough to not get his tail caught when it slammed shut. He rushed back to see if he could possibly pry it open, but to no avail, he was trapped. Sly looked about to take further stock of the room to find that the place was illuminated by candles of various shapes, sizes and colors that floated mystically in the air, he was astounded to see that as the wax melted and dripped down the sides of the candle, the droplets of melted wax succumbed to gravity for only the briefest moment before stopping in midair and reattaching itself to the bottom of it's waxy home.

As amazing as this was, Sly continued to look about for any means of escape, finding it in a single, glassless window. Rushing to the small portal, Sly had to jump, pull and strain himself to look outside, his small child's body not providing him the proper height needed to look without work. For a brief moment, Sly became horrified at the prospect of not returning to his proper age, he'd have to wait years and years before he could properly reach the top shelves again, the concept was far too mortifying to grapple with. Luckily Sly had other things to occupy his mind, he pulled himself up to see that he was in a rainy swamp, where this swamp was…was anyone's guess. But Sly reassured himself with the cold comfort that if worst came to worst, he could make a break for it by swimming, at least that was until he reminded himself that he couldn't swim to save his life. He silently hoped that those words wouldn't require a literal occurrence. Sly refrained from saying some awfully rude words about the fact that he was now no longer just trapped, but perfectly trapped, with no idea where he was, and left to face the fact that he wasn't even his proper age.

"Would you please sit down?! **Some** people have things to do after this." The woman's voice chastised. Sly felt somewhat relieved that the voice no longer came out of everywhere at once, but now had a source, or so he hoped. The voice came from the direction of the closet, to which Sly turned to discover that the closet door was gone, frame and all, in it's place was a doorway, the room onto which it opened was blocked by thick purple curtains.

"Why are you still sitting there?! I told you to…oh I'm sorry. Silly me…I forgot the darn chairs." Instantly, two thick wooden chairs shot out from behind the curtain to float and set themselves at opposite ends of the round table, Sly felt somewhat impressed to see the mess on the floor actually move itself out of the way and allow the chairs to land. Realizing he had no options left, Sly got down from the windowsill to take his seat at the nearest chair, once again facing evident height problems in this task as well.

No sooner had he done this, when he heard a clattering of metal and china from behind the curtains that marked the room's only entryway. Sly watched the curtains began to move and reveal his somewhat enigmatic host. He became horrified however when he found the voice who'd been ordering him about this entire time was none other than his former nemesis, a former member of the old Fiendish Five, the mistress of the mystic arts, the wild witch, Mz. Ruby.

"YOU!" Sly exclaimed and pointed at the sight of the voodoo priestess.

"Yes, yes, it's me," the gator woman retorted lazily, as if they were discussing the weather.

"**You,**" Sly practically growled, his shock and fear quickly turning to anger.

""Killed my father!" you'll say. Then I'll say, "No Luke, _**I**_ _**am your father!**_" Then you'll shake your head and say "No. That's not true, THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!" By which time I'll retort, "Search your feelings. You **know** it to be true." Then you'll begin a series of blood curdling screams in which the only intelligible word is "no", after which I'll pickup with, "Luke, you can destroy The Emperor, he has foreseen this, it is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy, **as father and son!**" You'll look around until I say, "Come with me, it is the only way." Then you'll jump off the edge into the black abyss, and months later, a blind Han Solo will knock Boba Fett into the sarlacc pit."

(A/N: Yeah, that's right, Mz. Ruby's a Star Wars fan, what're **you **gonna do about it? Give me a bad review? (Oh please God don't!) You know, it's surprising, not many people know that Mz. Ruby actually owns models of an X-wing fighter, **and** The Millennium Falcon, **both** signed by George Lucas, Mark Hamill, James Earl Jones, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher, mister Ford's signature is the only one on the list missing from her model of The "Incomplete" Death Star. It is also rumored that Mz. Ruby is actually capable of playing the Imperial March on guitar, the only possible living witnesses to this being Muggshot and The Panda King.)

"Listen," she continued, "I don't want to be at this all night, so speaking from one adult to another, let's refrain from the clichéd and over used dialogue, okay? And before you do something silly, like scream a war cry and leap across the table in some misguided attempt to throttle me, please keep in mind that you currently lack your cane, your backup, are currently in the body of an eight year old, and at anytime, magic or no, I could scarf you down faster than three platefuls of flapjacks. Now before I sit down and have to get up again, tell me, are you one of those weird types who take cream with their tea?"

The last question caught Sly completely off guard. It hadn't been until she asked it that he noticed that she'd been carrying a tray laden with a rather eloquent china teapot with two matching cups, a sugar bowl, and a plate piled high with several squares of lemon pound cake.

"Well?" she snapped, reminding Sly that he'd been asked a question, "Cream or no? I'm not holding this tray for my health."

"…No," Sly tentatively answered, feeling thoroughly confused as the situation had not only taken a turn for the weird, but hit the nitro button on it's way.

"No cream, good," Mz. Ruby said as she settled her large form into her chair opposite Sly, setting the tray within arm's length of the raccoon, "Saves me a trip. Oh, and I suggest you take advantage of the pound cake, I hear near death experiences can really leave you hungry."

"I'M DEAD!?!" Sly exclaimed, his blood running cold at the prospect of meeting his own end.

"Near death. NEAR death! "Near" is the key word in that sentence. Honestly, you need to pay attention. I hate havin' to repeat myself."

Sly was about to say something rude when he felt his gut twist and rumble, and as much as he wanted to insult Mz. Ruby for taking that tone of voice with him, he could not deny that he needed food without delay, and he'd be crazy to spend his time jawing on. Sly reached across the table and picked out his own square shaped pastry. He was about to scarf the whole thing down in one bite, when it occurred to him just **who** exactly was the one serving these treats to him. Several images of himself starting to gag and foam at the mouth struck his imagination, followed by the classic warning of "Don't take candy from strangers" which soon came to mind, and when he thought about it, no one was stranger than her, Dimitri had a close second.

So rather, than eat the pound cake, which Sly was almost one hundred percent sure had rat poison in it, he began to toy with the pastry, sniffing at it, looking at it from all manner of angles, feeling moderately proud of himself at having seen through Mz. Ruby's clever little-

"OH FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!" Mz. Ruby shouted, suffering from a severe case of annoyance. She reached across the table and yanked the yellow square from out of Sly's hand and picked up two more on the journey back, popping them all into her mouth. She vigorously chewed the lot and swallowed, after which she opened her mouth wide to offer up further proof that she'd indeed ingested the suspicious snacks. "There," she said, settling back down, "Reassured?"

Sly was about to comment on the fact that after being spontaneously returned to an eight year old body after suffering a so called "near death experience", especially after being told how easily he could be eaten, seeing the inside of an alligator's was anything but reassuring. However, before he could compose the words in his head, his stomach did it's Audrey II impression ("Little Shop of Horrors" for those of you who've been living under a rock, those of you who haven't seen it; you have my sympathies). So satisfied with the knowledge that the pastries weren't poisoned, at least not all of them, Sly returned to the plate stole another pound cake square and practically inhaled it.

After six more pound cakes done in a similar way, the last four being eaten at a somewhat slower pace due to some slight choking, Sly had calmed down enough to approach both the situation and his hostess more diplomatically. "Okay," Sly began, wiping the crumbs away from his mouth, "Let's cut to the chase, why am I here?"

"Well that's an awfully philosophical topic, with many crossroads into the question of "what is the meaning of life"," Mz. Ruby replied with a wicked grin, pouring Sly a cup of tea, tossing in a couple of sugar cubes before sliding the cup to him, "Writers and poets have been trying to get that one for years, haven't even come close if you ask me."

"_glug, glug, glug._ You know what I mean," Sly said sourly after downing half his cup.

"Yes, yes, yes…You and I are here to have a conversation, and not just any conversation, but an important one at that."

"_glug, glug, glug._ What's that?" Sly asked, confused at the simplicity of and vagueness of the answer, but not so confused he couldn't slide his cup back to Ruby for a refill and grab yet another pound cake.

"Well you see," Ruby said, sliding the raccoon's cup back to him before filling her own, "a conversation is an occurrence when two or more people exchange dialogue, but that's not important right now."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Well I rarely get gentlemen callers, I'm always looking for a reason to break out the good china, and to be honest, I really enjoy making tea, it's a nice break from all the dark spells, spiritual summonings, and zombie creating, which in itself can be somewhat tiring work."

"No, why are you helping me?"

At this Mz. Ruby gave Sly a smile similar to one a cat would give a canary when they're stuck in the same cage. "Why Sly whatever can you mean?"

"I know you spotted me back in London, yet you didn't call the guards, and now that I've been listening to your voice, I'm fairly certain that you probably had a hand in waking me up and keeping me from drowning back in Antarctica."

"I might've done a thing or two, yes."

"Yeah, but that's not it. Another thing that's always bugged me is that when you went to see Clockwerk, you were already an accomplished criminal, with a rather respectable empire to your name. And even after that when you'd claimed your share of the Thievious Raccoonis, your selections did not benefit you whatsoever, and those that could've been of some use to you, you completely abandoned. You've been capable of turning bank vaults in to butter knives, had access to countless numbers of zombified foot soldiers, could probably rip apart just about anyone you see with a few weird words from your lips. Yet despite all this you allowed me to take your most precious possessions, trample about your home, and not only allow me to go at you in one on one combat, but allow Carmelita and the rest of the cops to take you away without so much as a scratch. Your entire criminal career is nothing but a long list of contradictions, bad plays, and random acts of bloodthirsty violence, and I think you're about to tell me why."

_**CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.**_

At the end of Sly's speech, Mz. Ruby set het tea cup down to give him applause, picking up the cup once more to fill her second cup, as Sly finished up his fifth. "Well, well, well, and here I was thinking the turtle was the only smart one out of infamous Cooper Gang."

"I've never been stupid, just quiet."

"I'll bet," the lady said, taking a sip from her cup, "You're wrong however when it comes to me and Clockwerk, **he** came to **me**. But you are correct when you say there's a method to the madness. I don't tell people this, because of the controversy it would cause and the bedlam it would bring to my modest life of mischief, but I can see the future, and not just one future, but all possible futures that could occur. While my motives seem chaotic, they actually adhere to the formula needed to create, in my opinion, the best future for the world possible."

"And the deaths of my parents fit into this perfect world how?"

"First of all, I'm not aiming for a perfect world, just a good one. Secondly, where would Venice be right now?"

"…What?"

"Venice. Where would it be? As I recall, some time ago, you and your friend Bentley travelled to Venice, Italy to re-induct your lifelong friend Murray back into the ranks of the Cooper Gang, am I correct?"

"Yes, but-"

"Let me finish. As you ventured to reunite with your friend, you uncovered the plot of a late Don Octavio who's scheme would've held the entire city within his sway, causing the deaths of many people. But now thanks to your actions, it is police who patrol the streets and canals of Venice, and it's people are free to live their lives, safe from the grip of organized crime."

"Someone else would've-"

"You asked the question Sly boy, now listen to your answer. If I'm not mistaken, some time before that, you encountered a peculiar logger by the name of Jean Bison. Now, Clockwerk or no, one thing is for certain, Jean Bison's clear cutting and smuggling operation would have gone on undisturbed. In a few scant years, all of Canada and many places beyond would've been clear-cut and damaged beyond repair, creating endless numbers of barren wastelands and doing untold damage to the environment."

"So what, he-"

""So what"? Then allow me to be blunt, if your parents had lived, how would you have met Bentley and Murray?"

"I…" that's the amazing thing, there was no way he could finish that sentence. Sly sat there and thought and no matter how many times he ran the scenarios in his head, even if he did somehow meet his two best friends, there was no way he would've formed the same bonds of loyalty and brotherhood that made the Cooper Gang what it was. Sly even doubted that he'd be thief if his parents had lived, because the one thing he wanted to be, more than anything else, was a fire fighter. As much as Sly hated to admit it, as gruesome as the truth was, Sly had to admit that Mz. Ruby was right. Everything, and everyone Sly held near and dear, came at the cost of his parents grizzly death, there was no way around it.

"Okay," Sly began, gaining a brand new perspective of the character that was Mz. Ruby, "Why am I here?"

"You and I are here to have a conversation, and not just a conversation, but an important one."

"What's it about?"

"Quite a number of things, but you won't remember them."

"I won't?"

"At least not until it's time for you to remember them, because if you have the information beforehand, there's no telling what catastrophic events could happen. Trust me Sly boy, with everything that's set to occur, whatever happens, good or bad, needs to happen, and they need to happen in a certain way."

"So where do we start?"

"I don't know, how about we start with Murray?"

"…Murray?"

Sly awoke in terrible pain, which was understandable considering what happened not too long ago. He felt the bitter sting of the cool night air as it moved across his bruised up body. Sly looked about to see that he was flying over the jungle, being held by Suzy Q who carried his cane in her backpack, the sound of Penelope's chopper beating in his ears.

"Hey bossman," Suzy Q said into her binoc-u-com, "Sly's totally awake dude." She then turned her head towards Sly, "Hey man, what's up?"

"Just got back from a tea party," Sly answered groggily, fighting past the soreness in his jaw, but still just glad he can reach the top shelves once again.

"Tea party huh? That's, like, totally awesome! Did they have crumpets?"

"Naw…pound cake."

"Cool."

* * *

And that's chapter twelve folks! I am horrendously sorry for the long wait, over a month since I updated! I still can't believe it. And it pains me to say it, but from where I'm standing, it looks like you kids will have to settle in for another long wait. With college coming up, and getting out of my parents house, it looks like a lot of my writing time's about to be lead up against the firing wall. I am not, I repeat, **AM NOT** abandoning the story. I will continue to work on and update the story, so if your slacker sense starts tingling, get on the horn and remind me to get off my lazy butt and GET TO WORK! Because I want to see how the story ends too.

Now, to lighten things up a little, it's that time again to give last chapter's reviewers the warm, fuzzy kiss on the feet that they so justly deserve:

**Starwing Bravo: **Well, for anyone to say I'm funny is a real feather in my cap (excluding of course comments about my looks made behind my back). But to add the genius that is Tom Clancy into the mix, well when I read that, it just made my day. Thanks for the review, and I hope to keep you interested.

**Wolvmbm:** Wait, I thought Han and Leia tied the knot after the Empire bit the dust, not before. Ah well, whatever. I do hope that my portrayal of "Private John Grizzly's" military career was up to your liking, if not, well, there's actually nothing I can do about that, I suppose I could rewrite the section, but it's a pretty long one. So the most you could probably hope for if I did do a suck job on this chapter, is a heartfelt apology, and a postcard saying as such, probably one with a silly frog on it (don't ask me why).

**The Good Thief:** Aw, why thanks dude! I'd thought you'd be a little broken up by saying adios to Burger boy, and I hope to make up for the loss of that character by making this chapter totally awesome. Thanks for the support.

**Jake:** Thanks man, it really helps, but please, put the shotgun away, in these hard economic times, we can't afford you to waste good buckshot on a guy like me. Use the rusty meat cleaver, it's far more frightening, and puts out more for your dollar.

**Arkturium:** Well so far it's been a fun mission to write for, (long as heck though). And with polite ghosts, I know what you mean. This one time, a ghost held a door open for me, but he totally failed to tell me it lead to the alternate dimension, my evil dimension self's a real douche. Always going about, helping the homeless, protecting the environment, staying away from unhealthy habits such as coffee drinking and Russian roulette, the guy's a total jerk. Oh, and sorry 'bout the names mix-up, won't happen again Hash.

**Kurieo Parnok:** Oh really? Who's been spreading the good word? I'd like to send 'em a thank you note and whatnot. Oh, and I'm glad you're getting a kick out of the story, it's always great to hear that I'm making someone, somewhere, someway, somehow smile (try to say the last five words four times, fast). I hope to hear from ya soon.

**Kindom Rider92:** You should play the games, they're a nice slice of pretty awesome dude. Also thanks, I think I did a pretty good job on the new Fiendish Five too. As for the suggestions, trust me, they're concepts I've already file in into my story's point of view.

Okay, sadly, I gotta end things on a somewhat legal standpoint, considering I've made a horrific amount of pop culture references, so once more; **I do not own the copyrighted character's or copyrighted dialogue which appears in this story. I do not have anything of value for which you can sue me**. So now that THE MAN is appeased once again, and with no sacrifices to boot, I gotta head on out because it's nine in the morning and I've been up writing since seven in the morning…**yesterday.** So, to everyone out there watching me on the information super-something or another, remind me to do my job and type 'til my fingers bleed, review to inform me in the event that my writing sucks or if there's evidence to the contrary, protect the rainforest, read a good book every so often (which ironically perpetuates the need for the destruction of the very same trees I **just** told you to protect), and hey, don't be afraid to laugh like an ax murderer once in a while, it's done wonders for me. Oh, and most important of all; **take care of yourselves, because there's only one you.**

Your pal,

--Grimm.


	14. Bolder Than Bullets P2

And you're back with Mikey C and **The Bee. **Here on WXRT, **The Undertow!** We're coming up on the nine o'clock hour, and today we're talking with one of today's trend setters of the comic book world, graphic artist Kevin Slang, and his new book; Chapter the Thirteenth, in which lines are drawn, discoveries are made, clubs are crushed, and deals with devils about angels occur.

* * *

"Okay," Bentley began, "here's what we know so far." **CLICK.** General Red. "Out of all the members of the Fiendish Five, after Clock-la herself, the most high profile member is General Red. He is the pinnacle of loyalty and duty, a man who never says never, die, give up, give in, blah, blah, blah. In short taking him out will levy a serious blow to the cult. The question is how do we accomplish this?" **CLICK. **General Red bench pressing the trucks. "Clearly meeting him head on in physical confrontation might end in disaster. Not to mention, even if we succeed in that venture, there's a strong possibility that the event will be taken as a mere beat down and nothing more." **CLICK. **The troops. "Taking out the base would be a nice touch. If they had a few hundred less soldiers, I might say that we'd stand a good chance of doing just that, but sadly, no. We need to strike General Red in the one place he can't fully defend with his impeccable strength or soldiers at his command; his reputation." **CLICK. **Clock-la. "We've got to work to discredit the General, with enough attacks on Bullet Bay, finishing up with a grand finale on the day Clock-la herself is to come to inspect the base and give a speech to inspire the troops. We need to make The General look so bad that Clock-la will have no choice but to oust him." **CLICK.** Bullet Bay. "So, to start the games and fun." **CLICK. **The "grizzly" Panda King. "The Panda King will procure the sewer schematics from the base's records storage, and send 'em to me via binoc-u-com. After which," **CLICK. **Dimitri. "Dimitri gets to become the proverbial wrench in the works of the base's plumbing." **CLICK.** A poster showing two pictures of a monkey in cult uniform, one where he's sad, downtrodden and tired "before", in the second he's happy, buff, wearing sunglasses and surrounded by chicks "after". It had the words "QUIT THE CULT!" posted in bold red print along the top. "Also I've been working on some posters with more than a few choice messages I'd like to send to the cult and it's members. It's too dangerous to post these puppies by hand, so it'll have to be an air drop." **CLICK. **Sly in his bed on the ship. "Since, once again, Sly has gotten gratuitously injured during the first phase of our plans," **CLICK. **The Black Baron. **CLICK.** Penelope. "Penelope will…*sigh* have to take his place and pilot the plane to drop the poster payload." **CLICK. **The base's AA weaponry. "Which means I want these things out of commission by the time she makes her pass over the bay. I'm serious, if any of these things gets a shot off, you'll have me to answer to. Trust me, just because I wear glasses, it doesn't mean I can't handle any one of you guys." **CLICK.** Colonel Cobalt. "Which brings me to this man, Colonel Cobalt. From what I gleamed from the meeting, this is a man with whom we need to strike a line of communications. Despite being an outspoken member of the cult, he's ambitious, and absolutely despises General Red, I don't think negotiations will be too terrible. Reviling though he may be, if my calculations are correct, we cannot make a final crush on the General without his aid. Apparently, the Colonel strikes out for a secluded cave off base, that's where we'll start talking. I just hope the slime's too stupid to try to take me in." **CLICK.** General Red. "With any luck, we'll be set to take the General down and out, and remove him and countless other cult members from the equation. Regardless, as they say in the military, it'll all be over by Christmas."

* * *

**The Conflicting Flush**

* * *

**Gabon coast, Africa 10:14am**

It had been an interesting morning so far, to say the least. The Panda King was beginning to suspect that the title of squad leader only meant that those above you blamed **you** for everyone's poor performance, whilst those below you blamed **you** for part of their misfortunes.

That particular morning had been filled with weapons drills, the General deciding that Alpha Zero should forgo marching drills because, in General Red's words, "Marching never taught no one to kill nothing no how. 'Sides, it's stupid and useless, and the lot of you are so much of both as it is that it's sickening." So they were brought to the rifle range to improve their shooting. Of course, General Red, being the ever imaginative person he was, spent quite a bit of thought on the matter, cooking up ways to make the event interesting, and ultimately came across a recipe that stuck.

You can imagine the surprise and apprehension the two squads that made up Alpha Zero felt when they were met at the rifle range by a grinning General Red who sat atop several crates filled with weird collars. The Panda King inquired about the extra neck wear, but General Red waved it off, saying, "You guys remind me so much of dogs, that I thought you mutts'd be comfortable in these." Shying away from further verbal abuse, The Panda King didn't question when after ten minutes of shooting, General Red ordered special targets to be placed out onto the range. It was during those first ten minutes that The General spent nine minutes and five seconds informing them that they were doing so badly that their targets were the safest things on the base, were probably laughing at them, and that he personally would order them to place the barrels of their rifles to their heads and pull the trigger, but he couldn't bear to see them miss _that_ target too, there of course were other insults, but those were the ones that really stuck.

The first round of shots levied against the round, multicolored targets was a rather out of the ordinary scene. They all aimed and fired at the "well rounded" opponents (ha ha ha! it's funny 'cause they're shooting at targets, of course they're round! HA HA HA! (inside, I'm actually crying)). After they all fired, some hitting, some missing, none getting bullseyes, a strange feeling over came them, an odd tingling sensation about their necks. They of course briefly looked up and around towards their fellow squad mates to see if the sensation was shared, but the investigation was cut short when The General ordered them to continue with the exercises, and order which they reluctantly followed.

It was about this time, after they levied a second volley of shots against the targets that they all realized they felt a severe, yet swift pain that spread out from their necks and beyond. Hurt, confused, and panicky, the troops were about to say that they demanded to know what was going on, when the General took it upon himself to answer their collective question before it's asking. He informed them that their brand, shiny, new collars were in fact shock collars, which they were of course ordered not to remove, and that the targets which they were shooting at had special sensors that could tell where they were hitting; if they missed the bullseye, they would be shocked. And so it went, load, aim, fire, scream or grit your teeth in pain, load, aim, fire, scream or grit your teeth in pain, and so on and so forth, etcetera, etcetera. It wasn't until they were twenty minutes or so into this new and exciting treatment (which most gents usually have to pay an extra lot for), that a slightly perturbed crawdad recruit politely took his time to inform The General that after four consecutive bullseyes, "THE DAMN THING'S (the collar) IS STILL SHOCKING THE S***" out of him. General Red then took his time to explain to the invertebrate recruit and all other members of Alpha Zero that unless **all** members of the squad hit a bullseye, all members of Alpha Zero will share in their comrade's failure. Throughout the **four and a half** hours of rifle training, there were only **three** times when they were not shocked.

This brings us to our current situation, in which The Panda King was miserably tromping away from the rifle range. He walked shoulder to shoulder with his just as hurt and miserable as squad mates, all of his fur standing comically on end, with occasional arcs of static electricity jumping from one hair to another. The General had let them off the hook for one hour to return their rifles to the supply store room they got it from, which was across the base and shaved off fifteen minutes from their hour. He suggested they used the remaining forty-five minutes to shower, eat, and immediately see the doctor about any involuntary twitching about the neck, arms, and, well, just about any other part of the body. Once their time was up, they were to report to The General on the outer edges of the jungle for, as he put it, and others dreaded the sound of, "Eight hours filled with fun and adventure."

With the list of activities set before The Panda King, he started a mental list for their completion; first being to return his rifle, third being to see the medical pavilion about the involuntary twitching in his feet, fourth place took eat, with shower bringing up the rear. The second place slot of course had been to procure the sewer lay out for Bentley and Dimitri, for whatever dark purpose the turtle had cooked up. This task would've been the first on the bear's list, but breaking away from the group was sure to raise suspicion, he'd surely get spotted and reported on by someone. And when he said someone, he meant Law. The Panda King looked over his shoulder to discover that despite sleep deprivation, small food servings, and over four hours of electrocutions, Kitsune Law still had the energy to scowl at him behind his back, lovely. Although he had admit, she was a far better, and much more humorous sight to see, with her hair all frayed out and staticky as well.

Sadly though, The Panda King's list was torn asunder by an unfortunate turn of events. Alpha Zero's path to the rifle store house took them past the motor pool, where several wildebeest guards stood waiting by two trucks.

"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS!" The biggest and meanest looking one said, pointing towards Alpha Zero, "GET ON THE TRUCKS! WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE!"

"Where are we going?" a coyote recruit asked.

"Don't worry about it," the guard said, visibly annoyed that the order was not followed the first time, "just get on the trucks."

"But our rifles," one billy goat recruit started.

"Will be needed," the guard finished through gritted teeth, getting angry that his order was being ignored, "Now, **get on the trucks.**"

Not wanting to see the result of asking a third question and ignoring the order once more, the recruits reluctantly began to file onto the backs of the two trucks. There were fourteen to each truck, and the Panda King was amongst those picked out and shoved aboard, he looked back to see that Law was not among those who were carted aboard as the trucks began to drive off. The two trucks wove in and out between the base's buildings until finally pulling onto the road that went through the front gate, or at least where the front gate would be if the rhinos hadn't done such a perfect job of abolishing the fence.

The journey to wherever they were going was not at all a pleasant one. The path the drivers took down the old jungle roads went through some particularly swampy parts of the jungle. The Panda King pensively sat in thought throughout the ride, trying to piece together what exactly was happening to them, but despite his best deductions and meditations, he could not come up with an answer he was one hundred percent sure of. But, this might be partly due to the fact that his train of thought was constantly interrupted by the other recruits on the truck, asking if their squad leader knew what was going on, which of course he didn't and told them as such. He silently listened to the various conversations of those around, the general feel of which supported a somewhat low morale, with topics ranging from "I'm hungry" to "The General's probably going to punish us for being late". The fact that the back of the trucks were uncovered, leaving the recruits exposed to the elements, did not help much to improve the mood. Suffice to say, insects, foliage, and other aspects of the jungle had become an issue.

However, after twenty minutes or so of driving, the trucks pulled onto the edge of a clearing, at the opposite end of which there stood a small array of huts and whatnot, a village. Tired, dejected, and covered in mud, the recruits got off the trucks to be met by none other than Colonel Cobalt, who stood by his own jeep with a three man wildebeest entourage. The drivers of the trucks ordered the recruits to line up and stand at attention, before they themselves joined their other lackey buddies.

The guards kicked back and shared devious smiles, and Cobalt had his eyes closed, deep in thought, probably imagining himself as ruler of the world. So with nothing immediately important going on, The Panda King returned to doing the standard of any situation he found himself in, take a gander at his surroundings. The most eye catching item of course being the village. The Panda King felt nothing but confusion at being near a place such as this, for all intents and purposes this place looked to be a peaceful village, poor but peaceful, there were even barefoot lemur children engaging in a game of soccer, these weren't the sort of people who could afford to start any trouble. This of course logically led The Panda King to believe that their task, whatever it may be, lay within the jungle. He felt rather alarmed and confused however, when one lemur woman walked out of one of the huts, took one look at the troops, screamed and ushered several children into the clay and straw house. The Panda King was about to ask what it was **exactly** they were there to do, but that's when Colonel Cobalt began to speak.

The Colonel smirked as he marched forward to address the recruits, his walk and stance reeking of self satisfaction. He smiled greedily as he raised one hand and pointed towards the village, saying only two words before walking off back to his wildebeest friends. "Kill them," the words rolling easily from his lips, as if he'd asked someone to pass the salt.

Now, whilst Colonel Cobalt had no moral reservations about his order, the recruits of squad Alpha Zero had just one or two small hang-ups about slaughtering women and children without a reason why, recruits who, for the most part, lacked a killer instinct, hence the reason why they were in Alpha Zero in the first place. This however, was a concept that seemed to be lost on Colonel Cobalt.

Upon seeing that his order was not being carried out by the recruits, who simply stood looking either confused and disbelieving what they'd just been told, The Colonel marched back over to the troops and addressed them with a much more firm demeanor. "…What is wrong with you all? Are you deaf?"

"Umm, sir?" said the dalmation recruit from the day before, "Do you want us to-"

"Kill them, yes. I gave you an order."

Then a skinny necked ostrich recruit piped up, "But sir, what did they-"

"You're not here to ask questions, imbecile! I gave you all an order, and as your commanding officer, I expect you to follow it. Or at least go down there and make sure that all the villagers are secured in their hovels whilst **real** followers of Clock-la," Cobalt said, indicating the wildebeest guards, "set fire to them with the enemy trapped inside. Understood?"

They understood alright, there was no doubting or pussyfooting around about that. The orders were clear and concise, but the recruits just stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the world numbly, horrified by the prospect of what they'd just been ordered to do.

Well Colonel Cobalt would have none of that. "Why are you all just standing there!?!" The Colonel yelled, his face starting to turn from blue to purple in rage, "DO AS I SAY! I GAVE YOU AN ORDER! STOP STANDING THERE AND DO IT, DAMN YOU!!! DO WHAT I SAY!!!" In a blind rage, the Colonel began to painfully hit and kick some of the recruits, to get them into action, causing some of them to bleed. Finding no results or satisfaction in this course of action, the panther marched over to his wildebeest guard and procured a guard's revolver. He ran back to recruits, pressing the barrel of the weapon to the ostrich recruit's, a Private Sedgewick, head. The Colonel thumbed back the hammer of the gun, and oblivious to the tears that'd begun to well up and form in the fearful recruits eyes, Cobalt coldly addressed the recruits once more, "Do as I say, **now!**"

Despite appearances, Private Sedgewick was a very lucky ostrich, even though he couldn't tell from where he was standing. As it turned out, Private Sedgewick soon found himself to be a minnow in a rather large fish fry, and brother, they were frying up sharks that day. In a move of unimaginable heroism and bravery, The Panda King stepped forward and aimed his rifle…right at Colonel Cobalt's head.

The situation became tense, and understandably so. Several clicks were heard as the wildebeest guards readied their revolvers and aimed them at the Panda King. Colonel Cobalt for his part did not truly understand what was happening at first. He merely turned his head angrily towards The Panda King, and began to demand things. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE-"

**CLICK.**

The Colonel's words were cut short by the Panda King as the rifle clicked to signify that he'd just cocked it and it was ready to fire.

Beginning to understand that the situation might not be in his hands anymore, Colonel Cobalt took a deep breath to keep from saying something he might regret, for very obvious reasons. "Grizzly isn't it?" Cobalt began, taking a more even tone with the bear than he previously had, "Do you realize what you're doing?"

"Aiming a deadly weapon at your head," The Panda King answered easily, as if he were asked what's two plus two, "with the intention of pulling the trigger and killing you should you upset me…sir."

"You are standing against Lady Clock-la," Cobalt said, trying reclaim control of the situation, "The people in that village have sworn war upon her. And at any time, probably tonight, they will make their way to Bullet Bay and probably try to kill-"

"You're lying," The Panda King corrected the panther.

A grunt from one of the wildebeest guards seemed to comfort Cobalt, and lend him some bravery. "There are six guns pointed at you Grizzly," the panther enunciated in a low tone to the bear, "These are my finest men, and with a mere utterance they will quickly make it so that you are no more than a perforated and unpleasant memory."

"Before or after I shoot you?" the bear answered calmly, unafraid, because out of the two of them, it was the panther who was sweating despite his cool façade.

"…This isn't a situation you can win Grizzly," Cobalt stated firmly, "However, if you give me your gun, you have my word; no harm will come to you."

"…**No.**" the bear replied, deciding against informing the colonel as to where exactly he could take his offer and shove it.

"Do you think that you'll walk away from this situation alive?"

The Panda King replied by pressing grey metal to dark blue fur, allowing sweat to dance across the barrel of the gun. "No,…do you?"

It was at this moment that the Panda King saw the twitch. Now, truth be told, The Panda King was never much of a poker player, but over the years the Panda King has learned how to be able to see the twitch. The twitch is, as it's name suggests, a small, almost unnoticeable movement on the body, most commonly in the manifesting in the face or fingers, in this case the corner of Colonel Cobalt's eye. It is a move primarily made by undercover cops, cowards, or morons, and is the last and final calm before a storm resulting in a chaotic and horrifying bloodbath.

The Panda King saw the entire series of events unfold before his mind's eye, milliseconds before they occurred. The panther will try to dive to the side and get shot by the bear. The bear's victory will be short lived as the wildebeests proceed to shoot the bear. From there, the situation has a fifty-fifty chance of ending or provoking more violence in an unpleased response from the bear's former squad mates. No matter how he saw it, and what happened, this whole thing was going to end in bloodshed, and no matter what he did, The Panda King would die, and it was all going to happen now.

At the doorstep of his unavoidable death, The Panda King's hearing turned up all the way to topnotch, allowing him to hear the crunch of the dirt beneath Cobalt's pristine and polished boots, as the man wearing them shifted his feet in preparation for the grand and unsuccessful dive to the side which would act as a match for a veritable powder keg of death and carnage. However, just when it seemed as though all hell was about to break loose, a savior arose to stop this travesty, and it was heralded be the sound of automotive engines.

"WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING COBALT!?!" Instantly, all eyes turned to the jungle road, the main attraction of course being a slightly perturbed (which is a fancy way of saying "pissed off") General Red riding shotgun in the first of three jeeps that aside from the General, were positively filled to the brim with hyena guards. Being in the presence of The General, everyone made an effort to at least act like they had sense, the wildebeest guards lowered their weapons, Cobalt made his own borrowed weapon simply disappear, even the Panda King took a few steps back and eased up on the trigger, although not by much.

However, this collective cool down was not felt by all, as an enraged General Red jumped out of the jeep without even waiting for it to come to a full stop. He rushed for gathering of troops, not entirely within his own mind, many of his personal inhibitions gone for the moment, again, this was a concept that was lost on Colonel Cobalt.

"Ah General," the panther began, foolishly pushing recruits out of the way so he could meet The General more quickly, "I'm so glad that you're here. Would you please tell this oaf to lower his, wait, what are you doing? STOP!"

For the moment, General Red had become deaf to the colonel's words, seeking solace in the idea of ripping the panther in half. The ant rushed up to a somewhat confused and panicked Cobalt, having to jump to grab the panther's shirt front with his lower arms, pulling the colonel down to his eye level. In an effort to free himself from The General's powerful grasp, Cobalt foolishly placed his own hand on one of The General's, his wrist was quickly grabbed by the adjacent upper arm of the General. Cobalt screamed out in intense as the bones in his wrist painfully rubbed against one another and began to crack under the pressure exerted by The General's powerful grip. General Red raised his one remaining arm, curling his hand into a rock solid fist, with the express intention of taking Cobalt's head clean off.

Cobalt realized that once again he stood upon the precipice of his own demise. So in a last ditch effort to console the enraged General Red, or at least keep him from performing a coup de grace with his bare hands, the panther shouted two words through the cries of agony, "RAGH! YOUR ARRGH! ORDERS!"

Now, as if the panther had uttered some powerful sorcerer's enchantment, General Red released him and stepped back as if waking from a dream. Somehow, against all odds, defying all logical possibilities, in a one in a million stroke of luck, the words "your orders" had fought their way through the thick fog of adrenaline, betrayal, and bloodlust, to ring true to the dutiful soldier that General Red was. However, just because Red wasn't going to kill Cobalt, and there were now hyenas on hand to hold him back should he change his mind, it did not mean the panther was completely free from The General's retribution.

"What are you doing here Cobalt?" General Red began, emotionally drained, his breath coming in slow and haggard drags.

"I am doing what the lady Clock-la wills me to do," Colonel Cobalt answered, rubbing his sore and bruised wrist.

"Really? And what is that exactly?"

The panther gave a small smile of relief, glad that The General was willing to hear him out. "I have evidence that this village," Cobalt began, pointing towards the very reason they were all there in the first place, "has not embraced the kind light which Clock-la shines upon us all. But not only that, they have harbored defectors to our noble cause, and are responsible for the rhino stampede-"

"That's a load of garbage!"

"…Excuse me?"

"You heard me," The General's voice devolving into little more than a menacing snarl, "I am so tired of you."

"Sir, that village-"

"Is under my personal protection! They help me smuggle weapons into Bullet Bay you f***ing idiot!"

"…Sir, I didn't know."

"Didn't know or didn't care?"

"Sir, I only act in the best interests of lady Cloc-"

"STOP THAT GOD DAMN IT! Do you think that praising her name, and thumping the bible will absolve you of everything you do?! Why don't you just cut the crap?! Let's drag it all out into the open! The REASON you're here is that you were going to **kill** a bunch of innocent **women and children**, then when you reported it to Clock-la, you were probably going to spin some crap story about how they were a danger to us, and that you "bravely" risked life and limb to stop them, all in her name. But the worst thing is, you were going to use MY recruits to do it! MY RECRUITS! You're a gutless God damn coward is what you are, a nasty little bug who lives off others. A sneaky, slimy, sack of crap with severe delusions of grandeur, and everyone, even your lackeys, knows it."

Cobalt cast a quick glance to his personal guard, thugs who he treated like kings, and for some reason, all of a sudden, they couldn't bring themselves to look him in the eye.

"Well," The General began, breaking into a vindictive smile, "I think it's about time that you got to understand what the order of things are, allow me to remove some doubts you've had, so please listen closely. **I **am your commanding officer, from now on, you do as **I **say! Or I'll kill you. If you ever order **my** recruits about to do your bidding again, I'll kill you. If you dare pull anything like this again, I'll kill you. And if I hear that you've so much as looked at this village ever again, I'll kill you. Now you've really got to pay attention, because this part concerns something that's not only near and dear to your heart, but also something you've had a long time coming. You will **never** take my place, you will **never** take Dr. Burger's place, and as long as I have a single breath in my body, I will see to it that **you will never become one of The Fiendish Five.** And by the time Clock-la takes the world, I'll see to it personally that for all your lies, your scheming, and ludicrous aspirations, your one and **only** reward is a bullet in the head. Is that understood?"

Colonel Cobalt said nothing, he simply stood there, shaking in anger. There was a long silence, and it was apparent to everyone that Cobalt intended to kill General Red, he was filled with an inconsolable hatred for the ant. However, as much as he wanted rip The General's throat out and leave him to bleed and die, the hyenas who stood at the General's back, and the severe pain which continued to ring out through his own arm stood as solid reminders of whose head it was exactly he wanted to take. Any attempts on The General's life right then would not only be foolish, but futile.

"Well?" The General asked, starting to become impatient, "Is that understood?"

"…Yes…sir."

General Red then turned to address all of the troops, "Alright! We're heading back to base, everyone in the cars and let's move out!" He then rounded on Cobalt, "Except for you, you get to go back to base on foot." Then he addressed the wildebeest guards, "And you seven are to escort him, and while you walk back to base, through the slime, mud, and mosquitoes, why don't you think about where your loyalties should lie." General Red was about to make his way back to his own jeep when he noticed something, The Panda King still had his rifle aimed at Colonel Cobalt's head.

General Red walked over to the bear, having to stand on tiptoe to calmly place his hand on the tense trigger arm, "Lower your weapon Grizzly."

"…" No response, Red suspected as much.

"C'mon, it's over now son, there ain't no reason to keep brewin' about it, I'll make sure he gets his."

Then, slowly, yet surely, The Panda King lowered his rifle, strapped it to his back, and got on the back of the truck he rode in on.

"You did good son, real good," The Genral said, patting the Panda King's arm encouragingly, guiding the bear to his truck.

The journey back to base was about as eventful as the journey away from it, same trees, same roads, same seats. The **only** differences about this trip was the direction it was headed, the recruits got even more mud on them, and, well, the fact that no one said anything. The recruits simply sat quietly, all problems such as hunger and cleanliness were dwarfed in comparison to what had happened by that village. They all sat and stared numbly at their feet, still terrified by the prospect of what they'd nearly been forced into doing, and even more so shocked and appalled by the reasons why. The only one not sitting silently plagued by demons of doubt, shame, and fear was the Panda King, his demons were of rage, disgust, and conflicting feelings.

Putting all of his hang ups to the curb, aside from his anger, he had a feeling it'd come in handy, The Panda King had devised the perfect plan to retrieve the sewer schematics; he'd just take 'em. So, getting off the truck, The Panda King set himself on the straightest path to record's storage, the look on his face saying that old slogan, "try to stop me and I'll snap you in half". And being the large and generally frightening gent that he was, no one wanted to see if he actually would follow through with the slogan.

When The Panda King finally found the building known as records storage, he entered to find only one zebra guard on duty at the relatively small building's front desk, lazily reading an "inFAMOUS" comic book. Somewhere deep inside of the Panda King, there was a part of him that felt sorry for the unsuspecting sap at the desk, thus he promised himself that he'd feel bad about anything particularly horrible that he'd do to this man…eventually.

If the horse cooperated, nothing bad would occur, but that was still an "if". But first things first. "Excuse me," The Panda King began, trying to retain some sense of civility.

At first the zebra said nothing, he simply continued to stare at the colored pages which depicted some epic, grandstanding adventure. The Panda King began to suspect that the guard had not noticed his arrival, however, all doubt was removed when the zebra uttered the words, "…Man…it'd be cool to have lightning powers."

"Excuse me," The Panda King said once again, using a louder and far more gruff tone of voice.

"…Yes?" the zebra said, still not taking a look at his visitor, but merely flipping the page of his book.

"The sewer schematics."

"*yawn* To get access to that, you'll need to have the proper documents to approve for me to get those, after which you'll have to sign a registry that-"

The Panda King reached across the desk and grabbed the zebra by the front of his shirt, the bear bringing him up to eye level, "**Now.**"

I don't know if you know this, but sometimes saying "no" can be a real problem for some people, as peer pressure tends to cloud our better judgment, especially if one of those peers happens to be a ticked off and mud covered bear with both a rifle strapped to his back and a visible desire to probably eat you, then yell at you for giving him indigestion. So, and as shocking as it may seem, the zebra wisely decided to forgo the preapproved methods for document release, giving the bear what he wanted rather than face probable dismemberment. Once the papers were in the Panda King's hands, he exited the building, feeling that the zebra's silence was assured by the sounds of sobbing the bear heard as he exited the building.

From there it was just a quick jaunt to a rest room to send Bentley photographs of the sewer schematics, thus finally completing a long and arduous task that the turtle had coined as supposedly being "easy as pie".

I suppose it would not stand to surprise you that roughly forty minutes or so later on an unspecified strip of beach, Dimitri was sitting in the sand, doing something **completely** unrelated to the mission. He wasn't too far away from the base, in fact if he were to stand up and place his hands in the air, there was the possibility that whoever was manning the bay guns at the moment could see his fingertips over a nearby sand dune. It was about this time that Bentley informed the iguana that it was time to begin his part of the mission, being ever so tactful and polite.

"Alright! Time to get off your butt and get to work!" The turtle shouted over the binoc-u-com.

"Yes, yes, work," Dimitri said in a driven tone of voice, "I must work."

"Well, that's a certainly productive statement, more productive than I would've given you credit for."

"Credit yes , productive yes, work, yes, yes, yes, zat is all I do."

"Now on that I'll have to say we're in a bit of a disagreement," Bentley said bluntly, "Anyways, strap on your mask, you're going diving."

"…Diving?...Diving! No diving, no, no. I must not let her down."

"Let her down? Let who down?"

"**Her.** Can you not hear her? She is here with me, she speaks to me, she sings to me, she whispers to me of what I must do."

"Okay, now I'm completely lost, and I used to think I had a pretty good understanding of how you spoke. What are you doing? Have you been chugging cough medicine or something?"

"Cough?! I have no cough. I have hands, and with these hands I am giving her form, I am giving her shape, I am giving her breath, I am…she is done."

"Oh, fantastic, she's done…WHO THE HECK IS SHE!?!"

"Oh, scuse, scuse, my rad bad bro," the binoc-u-com camera for Dimitri whenever he was in his wet suit had it's camera on the iguana's diving mask, which was currently lying face down in the sand, hence the confusion Bentley expressed about Dimitri's activities. The iguana picked up the diving mask and turned it towards the source of his toils, even Bentley had to admit he was impressed.

Using sand and water in classic sandcastle style, Dimitri had created a knee high replica of his former club in Paris, everything flawlessly recreated from the bird shaped sign that ran up the length of the building from the front door to the wire lights strewn about the club's garden, which as far as Bentley could tell were made with fishing wire for the purposes of the sandcastle club. It was a perfect scale model, except for the moat and fortress wall with several protruding spikes, Bentley was fairly certain those hadn't been there during that his stay in that particular area of Paris, but other than that, it was perfect.

"Wow Dimitri, that's amazing," the turtle admitted, genuinely amazed at the iguana's aptitude for the sand castle arts.

"Yeah I know," Dimitri admitted, never being the modest type, gleefully accepting any and all praise, "I got ze spruce to make the juice, no?"

"Okay, I'm not even going to pretend like I know what you were saying."

"Is good, no?"

"Oh yes, very good no."

"Right," Dimitri said, his voice somewhat strained as he stood up, giving Bentley and even more magnificent view of the impressive sand castle club, "Time to smash."

"Time to smash? Smash what?"

"I must snub ze club, to preserve ze fond memory forever, lest she gets fat, old, smelly and unattractive like milk into cheese, zen I will despise ever having ze relationship at all. To make me happy, I must destroy ze sand club."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't do that!" Bentley exclaimed out of genuine fear and appreciation for the sand sculpted work of art, "At least let me take a picture and-"

_PWOOSH! PWOOSH! PWOOSH!_

"Say hey, sorry bro, I didn't hear, what you singo da lingo to me?" Dimitri asked, wiping the sand off his legs from the savage destruction of his own creation.

"…*sigh* Nothing," Bentley lied forlornly, the turtle's heart splitting clean in two as a single tear ran down his cheek at the Godzilla-esqe destruction of the work of art, "…Just get into the water."

"Alright! I gots ze drive to dive, and ze moves zat grooves! Who's hotter zan ice and colder zan flame? DIMITRI!"

"…Poor little sand club."

"What?"

"…*sigh* Nothing."

Dimitri strapped his mask on and picked up a small bag, containing three of Bentley's bombs, marked; "just incase", and he went into the water. Dimitri wasn't too enthusiastic about this mission, not that he was too enthusiastic about any work, it's just that he was less thrilled about this task than most others he'd been a part of. With the last mission, they'd gone up against a man with such a wonderful sense of taste and style, it almost hurt Dimitri to do the things he did, but he did them anyway because they were really, really, really fun, plus Dr. Burger had robots, and who **doesn't** love those things? Sadly, this General Guy, he had **no** taste, he had **no **style, and absolutely **no** dress sense, what so-to-the ever. Ruining this General guy was like throwing having a party in your mouth where everyone's invited, except you that is, your place is in the nose, listening to the music coming from the super sweet party that's in the mouth, feeling left out, so in an effort to try to come across as having a good time yourself you order pizza. So yeah, taking out General Red was like waiting for pizza, minus all the fun and excitement that comes when the pizza arrives.

Dimitri rounded a bank of sand to find something quite amazing. The sea gate to Bullet Bay had a small field of balloons underwater. They were all kinda spiky, and tethered by chains to the sea floor, but they were certainly balloons, there was no question about that. Now, since he wasn't on any specific time limit, Dimitri happily swam up to one of these balloons to touch it, and imagine his surprise and joy when it moved in order to touch him back, oh happy day!

"DIMITRI!" Bentley shouted over the mike, "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THAT MINE!"

At this shock revelation, Dimitri high tailed it away from the explosive ball o' death.

"Geez, what were you thinking!?!" Bentley berated the iguana, "That it was a balloon or something?"

Dimitri was very glad that he was unable to reply, and vowed that the truth of his stupidity will be a secret that'll be taken with him to the grave.

"Okay," Bentley assessing the information at hand, "Mines…this could be useful…it purposefully moved towards you, so it's magnetic. Could you look at the base of the chains?" Dimitri obliged, the camera in his mask offering the turtle a view at the base of the chains, the mines being held down by anchors dug deep into the sand.

"Huh, anchors not winches," Bentley continued to muse, "Then how do they lower them for boats to pass? Or how did the boats with the recruits get by for that matter? Unless of course they don't need to lower, but that still doesn't, unless…of course it's so simple. Okay I got it. Dimitri!"

The yell of his own name alerted the iguana, keeping him from falling asleep whilst listening to the turtle's mumblings.

"Listen the mines are magnetic, but they have no winch, so they can't be pulled down when a boat passes. So how do their own boats pass without getting blown up?...Riiiight, you're, um, underwater, you can't answer, my bad. Anyways, I suspect that their boats give off the same magnetic polarity. So therefore the proper, blah, blah, blah…

Not that Bentley actually said, "blah, blah, blah", but as far as Dimitri was concerned it's what could've been said. That isn't to say that Dimitri didn't care about what Bentley had to say, it's just that…okay, he didn't care about what Bentley had to say in this instance.

"…so all you have to do is **shoot the mines **and their polarities will be reversed."

'Shoot the mines, see? That's all he had to say' Dimitri thought, obviously not word for word, but that was the general idea. He pulled out his harpoon gun, express intention to plug everyone of the treacherous balloons and get on with the mission.

"But you can't shoot 'em straight on."

Or maybe not.

"Your shots have to skim the sides of the mines, else-wise they'll, y'know, explode."

Skim them, no dead on shots. It was at that moment Dimitri figured out the perfect way to freak out Bentley, and get himself laid if a chick should ever see him pull it off. First, Dimitri took a good hard look at the mines and how they swayed and were positioned. It'd be impossible to pull it off, not with one shot anyways, three would do it, but even after that, he'd need an extra hat trick to give it that Dimitri flare, but how could he, ah! Then he got it. He reached into the "just in case" bag and pulled out one of Bentley's bombs, it's reflective surface perfect for what he had in mind. Turning away from the mines, Dimitri held up the bomb, making sure that Bentley got a full view of what Dimitri saw, which were the mines in the reflection of the bomb. He took his time, he'd long since figured out there was no need to rush, so long as you pull the trick off completely. Once he was sure, he closed his eyes, and did his job.

Bentley of course was completely oblivious to all that Dimitri was thinking, so as you can imagine, he was quite confused. "Dimitri, what're you-"

_**KRRT! KRRT! KRRT!**_

Dimitri fired off three shots, which skimmed and ricocheted off of three mines and then off of three more mines, and so on. In three shots, Dimitri had hit every single mine in the underwater field, Bentley was speechless.

"I…wh…how…oh…You're getting a Christmas gift for that one."

'You're damn right I am,' Dimitri thought, again, obviously not word for word, but that was the general idea. With a job well done, Dimitri swam off to get another job well done. He swam off towards the opening of the bay, only to find his path closed off by a chained net which spanned the mouth of the bay.

"You won't be able get past here," Bentley called in, "A circuit runs through these chains, if you try to cut through it, the whole base'll be down your throat in a matter of seconds. And trying to climb over it in broad daylight is just asking for a bullet in the head. Luckily, The Panda King's given us a way past this. Got to the left, stick to the wall, and you should find a run off drain for the base. Swim up the pipe until you hit a filtration wall, jump over that wall, and I'll instruct you further from there."

Doing as he was told, Dimitri swam to left, and although he saw a really shiny rock, on the bottom, he stayed the course and stuck to the wall. He found the pipe, and although it was covered in algae, barnacles and other nasty muck-a-mucks, Dimitri swallowed his pride swam up it. For once, Dimitri did his job, no side tracks, no wrong addresses, no nothing, and how was he repaid? Well Dimitri jumped the filtration wall, as per Bentley's instructions, and while I won't tell you exactly what he landed in, I can tell you that it was thick, it was brown, it was _smelly_, and **it was everywhere.**

Horrified at what he was now covered in Dimitri broke to the surface and tore away his mask so that he could properly scream and swear vengeance upon the untrustworthy turtle who'd betrayed him.

"ARRRGH! YOU EVIL, EVIL…ROTTEN, YAGGH! …YOU CRACKER-BOX!"

"Dimitri," Bentley called over reassuringly, seeing that this could get out of hand, "Now it's not that bad."

"NOT ZAT BAD!?! YOU DARE TRY TO BALM CALM DIMITRI AFTER YOU HAD HIM ROOT SHOOT INTO, INTO-"

"It's just mud Dimitri."

"MUD!?! ZIS IS **NOT** MUD! ZIS IS…Zis is…Zis is mud?"

"Yes, what did you think it was?"

"I uh, thought it was, uh, no never no mind bro. What's zis cat's next tap dance?"

"You should be able to get access to a walkway, I'll set up holographic markers for you to follow along, place my bombs at the desired locations, and save my bug for when you reach the central flow center. Even after they repair the damage the bombs will do, I'll have full reign over their water supply and flow. With the normal supply cut off, water usage is bound to become tight, the use of bathrooms and showers is sure to be banned, as well as most drinking fountains. In a day or so, this place will start to stink something fierce, and with the scorching heat that's been going around, everyone is sure to be edgy and irritable, setting Bullet Bay to pop like a big ugly zit."

"I gots the spruce to make ze juice! Zese pipes are as good as done. Something else I should swing?"

"…Yeah, what did you think I had you jump in?"

"**No never no mind.**"

Dimitri found the walkway Bentley had told him about, and he trudged his way over to it. Getting up and out of the sludge, Dimitri took a minute or so to clean the gunk off of him as best as he could, the stuff was obscuring his awesomeness, and that just wouldn't do. Mud, heh, talk about you close calls.

The job was a relatively simple one, but Dimitri guessed that was because the hard part was being handled by the turtle back on the boat, which was fine by him. It was like his Grandmother used to say, "HEY! All My Children's on in three minutes, now shut up and help me find my teeth." In hindsight, it wasn't a very good saying, although All My Children was fun to watch so long as the other choices were infomercials and Mr. Rodgers.

As mentioned above, his job was indeed relatively simple (which was a fancy way of saying "easy as hell"). All Dimitri needed to do was follow the markers and plant the bombs, it was so easy a caveman could do it (that line is so much funnier when Geico uses it). However, when it came to the flow control room there was a slight hitch. The word's "slight hitch" are a different way of saying "four wildebeest guards, armed to the teeth, discussing which Bill Murray movie was the best". One said Stripes, another said Scrooged, they all were in firm agreement that Lost in Translation sucked. They then of course reconciled such a harsh statement, because Lost in Translation was a good film, it explored themes of loneliness, alienation, insomnia, and culture shock set against the backdrop of the modern Japanese cityscape. However, it was far from what they expected to see when they saw a Bill Murray film, and that really was the audience's failure, not the film makers.

Regardless of which movie was best (because they were all wrong, the right answer was Ghostbusters), the people discussing the movies were still four big mean thugs that were armed to the teeth and more than capable ripping a certain iguana in half with no real effort, so Dimitri needed to call this one in.

"Hey bro, I's got sitch zat needs sewing."

It took a second or so the turtle's voice to crackle over on the binoc-u-com, "…Yes?"

"I gots four cats here with me holding bags, and zey's big bags homes, big bags with bricks."

"…Why thank you Dimitri, your speaking is a firm reminder of why there are English classes, and we should probably sign you up for one when this whole Clock-la thing blows over."

"I need no class, I need violin shop."

"Violin shop?"

"Si bro, for ze cats."

"Okay, you know what, let's start from the top. What is the problem?"

"Ugh! I gots four-"

"Cats, yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard all that. Could you show me?"

Dimitri removed his diving mask and slowly poked it around the corner where the camera on it was able to catch a glimpse of the guards who had now began to discuss the possibility of Caddy Shack for being the best Bill Murray movie. "See?" Dimitri whispered as he put his mask back on, "Cats with bricks."

"Okay, I got it?"

"Kay che?"

"You remember that one movie where the three little kids were ninjas?"

"All to ze well, bro, all to ze well."

"Yeah, that movie sucked."

"Hey! I's ze screw loose, you's ze brains, let's keep it zat way."

"Well what do you want out of me? It's a pretty simple situation."

"I's needs ze brains man, you's gots ze brains, use ze brains."

"Um…okay, this may sound like a crazy idea, but bear with me on this, I just might be on to something, so here goes; did you try shooting them?"

"Whoa, hey, I thought you wanted me to go all sneaky samurai on zis one bro."

"Normally, yes, but we're not trying to steal anything this time. We're trying to horrifically destroy a solid gold reputation. So much so that he'll be forced to flee from his former allies or face horrific torture and murder. It's all very simple."

"Sos I can boogie down and go banga dang bang?"

"Well I would jump out and go, "Hey, look at me" and leave the Cooper logo everywhere, but yes, banga dang bang all you want, just get my bug into that control room."

Meanwhile, the wildebeest guards were completely oblivious to all that was being conspired against them, and were happily discussing their movies.

"Wait," one said, revelation striking him, "I got it! Oh man, I can't believe I didn't think of this in the beginning, the best Bill Murray movie is Ghost-"

"HEY! LOOK AT ME!" _**KRRT! KRRT! KRRT! KRRT!**_

Dimitri rounded the corner, his battle cry and attire taking the guards completely by surprise. He downed them with an ample supply of electric volts, the guards were still alive, but they were far from happy, or capable of standing and making coherent and well made decisions, like say, staying conscious, or stopping the gun toting iguana. Dimitri smiled and holstered his harpoon gun, "Zis town ain't big enough for ze two of us."

On the binoc-u-com, Bentley's clapping and praise was to be heard, "Nice job, finishing off with an old western movie quote and everything. What would we do without you?"

"Send in ze trippo hippo or ze scary scowl bear dude to eat zere heads?"

"Yeah, probably. Anyways, plant the bug, I mean, the sooner you do that, the sooner you go back to sitting around and doing nothing."

"I lika ze way zat tune sings." Spurred onward by fantasies of laziness, Dimitri reached into the bomb bag for the last item in the bag o' tricks that he'd brought along, removing the only piece of Cooper gang gear that didn't have the raccoon's logo. Making use of the already abundant wads of gum found under the master control station. All that was left was for Bentley to give confirmation.

"Aaaaannnd, we're in," the turtle confirmed, "I now have complete control over Bullet Bay's water control system. Sadly my bug is sure to be almost immediately discovered. Oh, if there was only someway to distract attention away from the central flow station so that the bug isn't immediately discovered. Oh wait, there is. Click."

Dimitri turned his attention towards the few scant security cameras that peppered Bullet Bay's sewer system, the reason for his own undetection would probably warrant thanks to Bentley. Regardless, the once peaceful, albeit dirty, views of the pipelined tunnels soon became a chaotic burning light show. Pipes burst, burnt, and otherwise became unusable. The sewers soon began to flood profusely.

"And zat's my cue?" Dimitri asked.

"Yep, head on back to base."

"Reals deals?"

"Well you could wait for more guards to show up and explain why they can no longer flush."

"Really? Ohs cools bro, I'll wait here then."

"Get back to base!"

Incidentally, Bentley was unable to recreate that awesome sand castle club, it was sad indeed.

* * *

**Law of Liars**

* * *

**Gabon coast, Africa 5:44pm**

"Okay," Bentley said into the mike, cleaning his glasses for the umpteenth (not an actual number, I know) time during the setup of this mission, "Is everyone in position?"

It didn't take long to get a response.

"I am ready," The Panda King confirmed. Whatever training Alpha Zero was slated for in the jungle was cancelled, because frankly, after the incident with Cobalt, General Red had bigger fish to fry.

"Yeah, uh, like quick question dude," Suzy Q buzzed in, sounding a bit out of it, which was normal I suppose.

"Yes?" Bentley replied quizzically.

"Yeah, okay, so like, here goes. Y'know that one thing you want? Well what's the other thing? "

"Not in position?"

"No, no, no, like, the other thing?"

"In position?"

"Yeah that, I'm that…I think…I don't know."

Bentley rubbed his eyes in frustration, he was seriously considering calling Suzy Q back in and sending Sly out there in her place. Now when one starts to contemplate resending the super deadly killer robot with deadly eye lasers in order to replace it with a hospitalized raccoon with cracked ribs and missing teeth, the state of affairs has become what most Oxford textbook scholars refer to as being an "oh s***" situation. However, despite these misgivings, Bentley took a deep breath, opened his mouth like he was about to say something, stopped, thought about the 'send Sly in' option, decided against it, got ready to talk to Suzy Q, stopped, thought about the alternative, admitted it did look pretty good, ultimately decided against it, asked himself what the hell he doing, vowed that he'd get his head checked as soon as possible, and finally asked, "Are you where I told you to be?"

"Oh yes man, totally!"

"Then you're in position."

"Aw sweet dude! Thanks man, you're a lifesaver. You are so totally getting a hug and cookie when I get back."

"*Sigh*, Murray?"

"Oh you know it!" Murray crowed over the binoc-u-com, "The Murray has never known failure, only destruction. Except for that one time at Happyland, where he could not fit into the small space provided for what they pass as a seat these days for the Space Fountain coaster, The Murray dropped the ball on that one."

"Okay, last one. Guru?"

"Ara sheeha," The Guru began, "Hashou hee hatoo."

"WHAAAT!?! Pfffft, AH HA HA HA! OH MAN! Oh man. The others have to hear this Hold on I'm switching everyone to your signal…Okay, guys listen to this, go Guru."

"Hashou hee hatoo," The Guru repeated, what followed was a great chorus of laughter from all members of the Cooper gang out in the field.

"HA!" The Panda King laughed, for the first time in recorded history, (there were one or two rumors, but everyone was more interested in finding Big Foot, it was honestly the easier of the two jobs).

"OH MAN!" Suzy Q exclaimed, "Dude, if I was drinking milk right now, it'd be coming out of my nose."

"That was awesome master!" Murray spoke out amazedly, "You should do stand up."

"Yeah that was a good one Guru," Bentley reaffirmed, "In fact I'd say that **whoever didn't understand what you were saying at that particular juncture is probably a sad and lonely individual, who'll probably develop some nasty disease, and die cold, cold alone and hungry in a gutter somewhere**."

(A/N: The views and commentary of Bentley The Turtle are not necessarily the views and opinions of Sucker Punch of America or in fact those of the author pen named Grimm Gun. (That means none of you can sue me or get angry…I think).)

"Anyways," Bentley said, taking a much more business like tone, "That's enough joking around, it's time to get to work."

"Excuse me, Mr. Bentley," The Panda King interjected, "But before we begin, might I have a word with you?"

"Sure thing Panda King, I just need to-"

"BENTLEY!" came a voice from behind the turtle.

"Find out why I'm being yelled at. I'll be right back." Bentley shut off his mike and turned his chair around.

Currently, he was below decks in the Cooper Gang's pirate ship, which for some odd reason had remained nameless, mostly because no one had thought up a name cool enough for it yet. He was in the section of the ship where the Cooper Gang's other two vehicles were stored, which so far have also remained nameless. Bentley was now staring up towards the cockpit of the Cooper Gang's biplane, which had been custom fitted with an insane amount thing-a-ma-bobs, doodads, and what-cha-ma-callits of various shapes and sizes, yet still no name, it's sad really. However what demanded Bentley's attention wasn't so much the plane itself, but the mousey mechanic (or mechanic mouse, whichever you prefer) giving him a stern look from the plane's cockpit.

"Bentley," Penelope began, "exactly how smart are you?"

"It's been quite some time since I've had my IQ checked, but Id' say it was somewhere in the neighborhood of one-seventy, one-ninety maybe. Why do you ask?"

"Well it's just amazing that how someone with such a remarkable intellect has managed to completely botch the plane's control set-up."

"Oh-HOO! That's a zinger!" came the sound of Dimitri's voice from further down the compartment area, where he sat on a lumpy sofa, watching TV.

"Hey!" Penelope snapped, "I don't need back up from the likes of you."

"Yeah," Bentley doubled, "Besides, isn't there something else you could be doing?"

"You's rights homes," Dimitri admitted. He then promptly reached over the edge of one of the couch arms, grabbed the bag of potato chips lying there, opened them and began to eat the contents therein. "Et voila! Now my life, she is complete! Thank you squinty eyed turtle meat thing!"

"…There is something strange about that lizard," Bentley muttered before returning his attention towards Penelope, "Okay, now what were you saying?"

"Oh nothing much, just that your control designs are completely whacked," Penelope reminded him.

"Alright, what's wrong with my control set up?"

"Well first off, as opposed to having all the attack buttons routed to the control rudder, you've have this lousy button panel. What do you think this machine is, and arcade game or something?"

"Yeah well-"

"I'm not finished yet. You've also got the missile button all the way over by the emergency eject button, I don't think I need to go into detail the problems that could arise from that one. There other such mix ups too, a lot of them, I can hardly understand how you got this failed tinker toy to fly."

"Hey, this is the same failed tinker toy that managed to shoot you clean out of the sky. Not to mention if everything goes according to plan, which it will, you'll just be making a few quick fly bys and then it's back home for tea and TV."

"Okay first of all, I've told you over and over that I had the flu that weekend, and have you ever tried to fly a plane in thick foam rubber with two little eyeholes for your line of sight? It's like try to perform open heart surgery with a monkey wrench. And secondly, your plans have had decent track record of not going accordingly. Sly told me about the Anubis head job."

"HEY! THAT WAS BOTCHED BECAUSE HE DIDN'T FOLLOW MY DIRECTIONS!"

"…You told him to grab an innocent girl and throw her out an eight story window Bentley."

"Well when you say it in that tone of voice, you make it sound like it was a bad idea."

"It **was** a bad idea."

"Murray was pulling up with the mattress truck, she would've been fine!"

"And didn't you set fire to the building at some point?"

"It was an accident! Why does everyone keep referring to that job!?! I mean there were other times when I screwed up even worse y'know!"

At these words, Penelope stopped dead in her tracks with what she was going to say, allowing a highly amused smile to snake it's way across her face.

Bentley blushed, having realized his mistake, "…Okay, that came out wrong. Anyways, do you want to call off the mission?"

"…No, I'll tough it out with your lousy controls I guess, it shouldn't be too hard."

It was at this point Bentley assumed a more serious demeanor and tone of voices, knowing all too well the dangers this life and line of work could bring, the chair he was strapped in bore full proof of that, he still remembered how bad things got when he sent her out on simple recon back in Antarctica. "Listen Penelope, it's not too late to back out. If the controls are that bad, we can wait to do this mission, or have Sly do this when he gets better."

"Naw, we gotta hit 'em now, hard and fast, whilst memories of what happened between Cobalt and Red, along with the sewer troubles are still fresh and new in everybody's mind. Not to mention, once upon a time I used to be the greatest pilot in the world, I made a nice pile of money and trophies being just that. If anyone's going to blast me out of the sky, it's definitely not going to going to be to be some slack jawed Clock-la cult drool monkey. Get on the horn, with the others, let 'em know everything's a go."

Obliging, Bentley turned around and "got on the horn" as it was so sophisticatedly put to him. "Okay guys, let's hit a home run."

"Oh wow," Suzy Q cut in, "You play baseball?"

"…Yes Suzy, I'm actually play a great deal of sports. I'm not actually crippled for life, I just happen to love wheel chairs."

"Oh man, that's amazing!"

"…You don't pick up on sarcasm well, do you?"

"Sarcasm's a kind of surfboard, right?"

"…Hey, did you ever get around to writing that recipe for the pancakes?"

"No, why?"

"No reason."

"If I may interject," the Panda King cut in, "I believe I was entitled to a quick word before we began."

"Right, right, right," Bentley said distractedly, "Switch over to frequency three, I'll talk to you there." Bentley switched to station three and waited for the Panda King's que.

"I'm here Bentley," The Panda King began, "Now-"

"Yeah, hold on a seconds. Hey Murray, Suzy Q, get off the line." There was a low "Aw man" and two clicks before Bentley spoke further, "Okay, it's all you. What's on your mind?"

"It is…difficult to explain. I'm not really confident about this mission."

"It's simple, just stay out of sight and everything should be fine."

"No, not that, I don't feel too well about the purpose of this mission."

"…What are you saying Panda King?"

"Today I was going to die, and soon after the blood of many innocents was sure to be spilt, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

"Panda King, he's Clock-la Cult."

"He's also an honorable man."

"…Look, you have more to fear from the cult more than any of us. You have a kid out there that they're gunning for."

"I am fully aware of that."

"Look, it's not like I'm asking you to sneak into his house and put a gun to his head. We're ruining his reputation."

"And after that, what's to become of him? I doubt the cult will be so forgiving and content that he'd be allowed to simply resign."

"Hey, he made his choice. If there's some way we can end this thing without leaving him to twist in the wind, I'll do it. But I'm not putting his safety over our lives. He may be a good man, but he's a good man looking to put a bullet in our backs. Now, I need your help if we're going to pull this thing off. Now are you with us on this?"

"…The safety of Jing King is paramount."

"Okay, let's switch back to the others." Bentley switched the frequency back over to the rest of the team, talking loud to overcome the roar of the plane's engine and the whir of the gears the opened the and deployed the ship's built in hangar and runway respectively. "OKAY GUYS! EVERYTHING'S A GO! MISSION START!"

The field members, consisting of Guru, Panda King, Murray, and Suzy Q were stationed atop the roofs of the four weapons stations designed to defend Bullet Bay from an aerial assault. Tucked away in four seemingly normal hangars at the four corners of Bullet Bay, they were of the few scant fruits of Dr. Burger's labors to reach cult hands before his imprisonment. Should the base come under attack, from out of the top of these hangars would come the most sophisticated anti-aerial combat systems on the planet; computer operated, motion sensing, heat seeking, and laser guided gunnery platforms outfitted with SAMs, AA guns, and heat lasers (Dr. Burger was always a big fan of lasers). The Platforms were rendered nigh indestructible from the air, due to them being equipped with energy shielding. All that was needed to activate the platforms and their deadly onslaught was the single push of a button. The buttons to these platforms were located inside their respective hangars, guarded by four guards at any time. It was the field members' mission to make sure that button was not pushed.

The reason for them striking at this particular time was that it was the end of the day. At sunset many guards, recruits, and officers went off duty, they all were more than glad for the moment of leisure, it was paradise after a grueling day of whatever torturous work they underwent during the day. If sending the fliers down at that time of day didn't demoralize the troops, the fact that General Red was most likely to crack down on the troops because of it certainly would. Not to mention, at that time of day, the troops tended to get a bit rowdy, the sounds of a few punches and kicks would certainly go unnoticed.

**Hangar A**

"So there I was," one zebra guard began, talking to his three compatriots (which is a fancy way of saying two hyenas and a wildebeest guard, as standard for every hangar), "Surrounded by the entire Cooper Gang. Sly Cooper, with his eyes glowing red and his fangs dripping slime pointed his razor edged hook at me, and says, "_**Tell us where Bullet Bay is, and we may let you live.**_" And I go, "What!?! I ain't never telling! You're dealing with an all original Kung-Fu master! Better recognize!" So I pull back my fist, all Bruce Lee style, and I-"

**POM! POM! POM!**

For a moment, all the guards were speechless, 'til one of the two hyenas spoke up. "Wow, man, that's pretty good sound effects."

"No, stupid," the other chastised him, "Someone's at the door."

"I'll get it," the zebra groaned. He got up from his chair and made his way to the hangars only entrance and exit, a single door at the end of the hangar, it stood as the only exit since the other end was blocked up by the gunnery platform, it's control panel, and well, any other machine that was required to make the platform work. The zebra was annoyed that anyone would interrupt his awesome and totally true story. Whoever did it had better have either a good reason or a higher rank than him, or it was their ass. However, those feelings of malice vanished when it appeared the visitor was a cute cat chick in a low cut green dress with a teddy bear book bag and, for some strange reason, was wearing mime make-up on her face.

**Hangar B**

"I swear to you guys," a hyena guard said to the other three, "There is something freaky going on here. I think Bullet Bays haunted or something."

"Oh yeah, sure thing, we all understand, it's this ghost that only you keep seeing, but none else, and only you can hear, yet no one else. We believe you," said the wildebeest guard in a reassuring tone, miming the action of drinking from a flask.

"I'm serious man! Last night, something came up to me on the roof and knocked me off from it, and the night before that, something said "Gesundheit," right before ripping the tiles out from under me."

"Dude!" exclaimed the zebra, "I…I think believe you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, cause just the other night, and you won't believe this, but I was sitting down, talking to bigfoot and this unicorn, when all of a sudden-"

"Oh screw you!"

**POM! POM! POM!**

"Oh no!" said the other hyena in mock fear "He's here to knock you off the roof again! Whatever shall we do!?!"

"Go get the door _Egon_," the wildebeest ordered.

"Hey guys," the zebra began darkly, "Who you gonna call?"

"NOT HIM!" The other two not being made fun of chorused.

(A/N: THREE! THAT'S THE MOST GHOSTBUSTER REFERENCES MADE IN ANY SLY COOPER FANFIC IN HISTORY! I'M SO PROUD! Okay…my God, this is so overwhelming, gimme a sec *awesome tear wiping sound fx*…Okay…I'd like to thank the academy, and of course the children, specifically Korean children, they made my shoes for this occasion, and um, Satan, he's always been there for me, buying my soul off me so I could get super shredding guitar skills, I don't think I would've gotten this far without him. And of course, you the fans, it's you nonexistent monetary contributions that makes all this possible. So all you out there, give yourselves a pat on the back and play some GTA, because GTA is awesome.)

Grumbling and wishing all sorts of ill will towards his compatriots, hoping that something, it doesn't matter what it is, something royally steps off in their collective behinds, the hyena guard went to open the door. After standing there for some time, he closed the door and sluggishly returned to meet further jeers from his friends.

"Okay, let me guess," the other hyena began as the former walked toward the light, "on the door handle, there was a hook right? Hee, ha ha ha! Ah…Hey, where'd you get that purple hat from?"

**Hangar C**

"Okay," The wildebeest began mystically, wearing a black hood (it was his turn to be Dungeon Master that night), "You're all part of The Ye Olde Neighborhood Watch. Recently there'd been a rash of vandalism in the village, some fiend or fiends unseen had been painting satanic and otherworldly imagery on the sides of people houses. It's up to you heroes to uncover the dastardly person or persons responsible. You see a werewolf loitering near a Ye Olde Convenience Store in from of you and a path leading into the woods."

"My half-orc monk has forty-four wisdom," one hyena began.

"Ah, I see you have some understanding of how my dungeon mastery works. Okay, your wisdom has allowed you to uncover another path into the woods, different from the path you had seen before, do you all choose this path?"

The answer was a unanimous "yes".

"You follow the path with no obstacles obscuring your path. Eventually your path takes you to the back of the village skate park, where you find the culprits, seven hobgoblins and a drider, caught red handed in the middle of their fiendish act, all while smoking under age. What do you do?"

"HA!" the zebra burst out, "Some wannabe goblins and a big spider? Short work for my elf mage. She casts a spell of eternal winter upon the enemy, all are affected."

"Roll for damage," the first hyena said, handing the zebra a twenty sided die.

The zebra rolled, his eyes became filled with triumph when the result was eighteen. "Eighteen! That times eleven means…?"

The wildebe-, I mean dungeon master was silent for a moment, he needed to consult the charts regarding the monsters' stats. "You have vanquished them all. Now you have to watch out for the police."

"Wait, WHAT!?!"

"Dude, you killed a bunch of kids over some graffiti. What'd you think was going to happen?"

"Man, this sucks. I hate it when you're dungeon master."

"Hey, now no one's seen you yet. If you're careful, you can still hide the bodies and leave town."

_**SHRREEEEK!**_

The sound of metal being torn startled the guards, the cry after that didn't improve their collective moods.

"**THUNDERFLOP!**"

**Hangar A**

"So babe," the zebra said propping himself up against the side of the door frame, using his free hand to swiftly styled out his 'do, (or to at least style it out a much as one's hair can be on such short notice), "What's your name?"

"Hi!" the cat began enthusiastically, "I'm Suzy Q, my favorite food is cordon bleu. And I,uh…forgot what I was supposed to do…"

"Yeah, I have that effect on women," the zebra said, not really listening, flexing what little muscle his string bean arms actually had. "Look, I'm going to lay it on the table; you, me, dinner and a movie, we go Dutch."

"Ooh!" Suzy Q exclaimed, "I like movies! And-wait, wait, wait. I'm supposed to be doing something, the turtle guy will get super shouty if I don't do it. It's just that, oh! Now I rember! I'm supposed to bust in, beat you and your buddies up and wait for further orders! AH HA! Yeah, I'm really sorry."

"Aw look, that's so cute. But look babe, I know you might be scared, I have that smooth mysterious aura about me, but you don't need to make excuses to come see-ULP!"

Incidentally, "ULP!" was not the way the zebra was originally going to end that sentence, but I think we can safely assume he was going to make a reference to himself and why she should go on that date with him, despite the nearest movie theater being two-thousand miles away. There is some debate about the reasons concerning the reason as to why he could not finished the sentence as intended. This narrator stands of the opinion that it should be attributed to the fact that the zebra partially breathed through his mouth and therefore inhaled a bad speck of dust. Most historians, however, tend to look back on the situation and claim that it was all due Suzy Q lashing out with her killer robot hands, lifting the guard up off his feet by the stranglehold she held around his neck, but what do historians know? Not a damn thing apparently, because it was totally the speck…I think…maybe…not really…no.

Anyways, speck or no, Suzy Q then curled her free hand (the one that wasn't wrapped around the guard's neck), into a fist and slammed it into the zebra's gut, knock the rest of the wind out of him, what little there was, as well as some blood. She then casually threw the guard's bashed and beaten body towards the center of the room. Now as you can imagine, the other guards were quite shocked at what had occurred, I mean it's not every day that you see your buddy get completely trashed for no reason out of the blue, and as such, each of the guards reacted in their own special way. The wildebeest pulled out his revolver at aimed it at the crazy cat chick who walked in and casually closed the door behind her with her foot, one hyena guard removed his walkie-talkie in order to call in back-up, whilst the other stared open mouthed at the zebra who wisely decided it best to simply curl into a ball and play possum.

"Oh, that's so totally not happening," Suzy Q said softly at seeing what was going on.

_**PTEEW!**_

Suzy Q activated her eye lasers that superheated the gun and walkie-talkie, forcing their respective owners to drop then, the wildebeest sporting a half cooked and blistered palm after taking too long. Now normally, after seeing some chick come in, waste one of your friends and start shooting laser beams out of her eyes, most guards would go, "Screw this," bravely run away. Unfortunately for this group, they were in a hangar with only one entrance and exit, and Suzy Q was standing in their way of using it, they had to fight. Not to mention they shuddered to think of what a freak like her could do when left all alone with a huge platform armed to the teeth with guns, and cannons and the like.

They got up and cautiously made their way over to the crazy killer eye laser chick, who seemed genuinely amused and really happy at her surroundings, but they strongly felt that was a preexisting condition. The two hyenas went to either side of her, while the wildebeest took front and center…out of arm's length, but front and center nonetheless. They each prayed silently to Clock-la that they'd live through this before rushing Suzy Q at once. As they ran forward, Suzy Q became a whirling dervish of pain, well technically it was only the upper half of her to spin and bring the pain, but that's not important. What is important is the fact that at forty miles per hour, she knocked the poor saps into the walls of the hanger.

Trying his best to recover from this, and silently hoping that the ringing in his ears was just a temporary thing, one of the hyenas tried to get up when he was quickly grabbed by his shirt front and thrown into the other hyena, it was about that point they decided it was best to call it in and succumb to the mild concussions they each bore. With three outta four guards down, that only left the wildebeest for Suzy Q left. Said guard got up and quit trying to stem the flow of blood that was pouring from his nose. He looked up to see Suzy Q coldly and calculatingly stepping towards him. Not wanting this to be a simple slaughter, the guard ran at her and through a punch at her, which she caught. Everything became a blur for the guard. He realized he was in the air, falling, still inside the hangar. He fell and spun at just the right speed and angle to see Suzy Q wind back a fist which flew and became a black blur. After that, he didn't remember much, mostly because he was unconscious.

"Yo little turtle dude," Suzy Q said, accessing her binoc-u-com.

"It's Bentley," the little turtle dude replied, "Honestly, it's not a hard name to remember, and it's very easy to pronounce."

"Okay whatever dude, anyways, guess what."

"*Sigh*…I'm afraid to ask, but, what?"

"I did everything you told me to."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Oh yeah, totally."

"Wow, you get a gold star for that one."

"Awesome!"

"Now you remember the bug?"

"…What you talkin' 'bout Willis?"

"The green thing that I told you not to break, no matter what."

Fearful, Suzy Q reached back and removed her backpack, briefly unhooking the car batteries which powered her laser eyes. She was relieved when she found Bentley's bug. "Got it dude."

"Good, now place the bug on the control panel of the gunnery platform."

Doing as she was told, Suzy Q followed her instructions to the letter, placing the small green technological wonder top of the panel. She then waited for further instructions.

"Aaaaaand, we're done here," Bentley began, "We now have complete control of this gunnery platform. Head back to the ship without being seen."

"Cool. Wait a second, can I break this bug thingy?"

"Well…I suppose you could but-"

**Crunch!**

"But what?"

"…Nothing, just get back to base."

**Hangar B**

The guard floated in darkness, he had no idea where he was. Suddenly, shapes and forms came into play, and the hyena found himself deep in the Australian outback, and he saw the wonder and beauty of it all. Then something caught his attention, a smell. He turned around and saw the largest plate of jelly doughnuts he'd ever seen. Doughnuts of every shape and size, filled to burst with jams from fruits the names of which he couldn't pronounce, flown in from countries so mysterious and foreign that they didn't even have names. Now that's a doughnut. The doughnuts were so filled jelly in fact that they began to overflow, not that the guard minded much as he dove for the nearest he could get his hands on. However when some of the doughnut burst open and began to gush like opened fire hydrants, flooding the landscape. Soon, the hyena was swept away in a sticky flashflood of red, he found himself drowning in his very own strawberry shaded hell. After that, everything went from red to black.

The hyena guard then opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the hangar he'd been stationed that night, he was standing over the control panel for some reason, his hands hurting. But something was missing from this picture. Then it occurred to him that his buddies had stopped laughing at him. It's funny, he didn't even remember walking over to the panel, last thing he remembered was looking outside and staring down at a steam cooked lobster on a platter, then he was standing there. But guard work'll sometimes do that to ya, it starts to blur, and it hits you hard when it does. He turned around to ask his buddies why he was by the control panel, when-

"OH MY GOOOARRRGH!"

When he turned around to find that his buddies had been beaten to within an inch of their lives, their bodies blackened, blued, and left on the floor. The guard came close to suffering a nervous breakdown, freaked out, and ran out of the hangar screaming bloody murder.

In regards to sabotage in Hangar B that night, no one heard anything, no one saw anything. All that was known was that four guards walked in, one ran out screaming. No one even bothered to ask if there'd been sabotage on gunnery platform B.

Ninjas **wish** they were as smooth as The Guru. (Suck it Naruto! Suck it hard!)

**Hangar C**

Murray's landing knocked the four guards on their collective buts, as well as obliterating the tables legs, sending them on to table leg heaven, a wonderful and happy place, where table legs no longer have to stay clustered in groups of three or four, they are separated, free from the tyrannical chore of supporting an oppressive space of wood. No, they are now in a place where they are varnished every day, and continually polished to be brighter than any star in the sky. Do not feel sad for the table legs which Murray so carelessly destroyed, they aren't dead so much as they are going home (but seriously, they were dead), amazingly the table itself was fine

Murray jumped up and carefully decided which foe to pummel first by using a very strict, logical, and extremely selective process of elimination (he ran at the first guy he saw). The guy he saw was one of the hyenas, so Murray reached out and grabbed the guard by his shirt front. Lifting the man up, Murray was in the mood to try out a few new battle cries, so he shouted out, "THE MURRAY DECREES THAT YOU GIVE HIM YOUR LUNCH MONEY!" feeling it needed something, added, "FOR JUSTICE!", then proceeded the punch the hell out of the guy.

The other hyena, trying to get over his mild shell shock and still not quite sure what was happening shouted, "Quick! Cast a spell of instant flame!"

This, as you can imagine, gained him several confused looks, even from Murray and the guy he was holding up that had just recently lost some teeth.

Realizing his mistake, the hyena then shouted, "SHOOT HIM!"

The message being heard loud and clear, the zebra and the wildebeest, who'd been sitting across from one another, reached for their side arms.

As it turned out, bullets were The Murray's only weakness (along with fire, knives, falling from tall buildings, incurable diseases, really the list goes on). So reacting, moving with a surgeon's speed and precision, Murray lashed out with both hands to grab the gun holding hands of the two guards, and while their intention had been to put the weapons to his head, he pulled them so that the barrels of their respective pistols were jabbed into the heads of each other. The two guards were shocked that they almost shot each other in the head, so much so in fact that they were unable to do much of anything as Murray became a pink blur and performed a perfect sweep, knocking the two off their feet. Still crouched low, Murray reached for the wildebeest guard's feet, he then swung the guard through the air and used him like a pro-wrestling chair to slam him into the zebra, take the striped shooter out. Unfortunately, things for the wildebeest weren't over yet, to finish up his daily wrestling fix, Murray picked up the guard used him to powerbomb the first hyena guard who was still a bit preoccupied spitting up his teeth. After that, the two groaned and decided that passing out at this point was a good move (not that either of them actually chose to take a nap at that point, but you get the idea).

Murray dusted off his hands, proud of his handiwork, when he felt that he'd forgotten something. That something came back to him when the other hyena leapt on his back and got him in a choke hold. Murray tried to shake the little nuisance off, but to no avail. He reached at the guard, but this proved useless as well since the hyena was just small enough to be out of the hippo's reach.

Murray was starting to run out of air, his breathing cut off, when the hyena began to celebrate his victory. "How does it feel fatman? You must really be the weak link in The Cooper Gang, to think that you'll get done in by someone as lowly as I. Not even one of the great Fiendish Five were required to take you out, that is how pathetic you are."

Unfortunately, with his air supply low, Murray's response was somewhat slurred, "Rhevhess Flehp."

"What was that fatman? Your last words?"

"Reverse Flop."

"What?"

Murray then quickly bent forward and readied his legs. He leapt into the air and fell backwards on to the hyena. Now I don't know if you've ever had a several hundred pound pink hippo land on you, but let me give you a little hint as to what it felt like; it hurt…a lot. With his ribs thoroughly cracked, nearing broken, the hyena decided to let the hippo go. Murray got up and turned to look down at the hyena.

"Shoot him?" Murray said questioningly, "Now I'm no head shrinker, but I'd say that was downright rude."

"Laugh agh, while you can hippo," the guard said, "Clock-la shall see to it that you get your end."

"Hey that was pretty good. Did you ever think of doing kiddie shows?" Murray as before delivering a swift kick to the side of the guard's head. With all the guards taken care of, Murray removed Bentley's Bug and attached it to the Platform Terminal. He wondered what was for dinner that night.

**Hangar D**

The Panda King moved quickly trying to decide his best course of action. The how he went about securing the bug to the panel was important. Being seen was, of course, not a course of action that he intended to take. There was no telling how this operation could go, so it was important to make sure that a mole was still in place. He checked his watch. This all needed to be timed perfectly to ensure that this was done without error, he only hoped that the fuse he'd put on the rockets was long enough. He made it to the hangar he was supposed to hit. After leaving a small a bag of what Bentley had marked as "presents" in a trash can next to the door of the hangar, The Panda King went across the way and stood behind one of the buildings opposite the hangar. His hangar was more on the outer perimeter of the base, part of the older stuff, aside from the hangar, this are was something of a ghost town, especially around meal time, so hopefully his action would be unnoticed.

He reached into his pocket for the small pile of rocks he'd collected there, he'd need to be swift about this. He removed three and threw them in quick succession at the door to the hangar, (hopefully) sounding like someone knocking upon the door. It took a moment or so, but the door was opened by a wildebeest guard, who opened the door wide enough for The Panda King to see a table topped with a small pile of cash, at which a zebra and two hyenas sat, they were playing a card game. The guard looked around, not seeing anyone (including the Panda King peeking around from behind the building across the way), shrugged it off, turned away and closed the door.

The Panda King waited a moment before throwing three more. More quickly than before, the wildebeest guard opened the door and looked around more persistently than before, his comrades at the table were visibly annoyed at this point. However, finding no one, the wildebeest snorted annoyance and closed the door. Right on the ball, The Panda King threw three more rocks at the door, striking it before it even properly clicked shut. Reacting as quickly as a whip, the door flew open, nearly being torn from it's hinges by the wildebeest guard, his ire truly raised at this point. The guard looked around quickly, even going so far to step outside and look around the sides of the hangar, before yelling a threat to whoever was messing with him, suffice to say, keywords in said statement were "rip," "brain," "stomp," "mail," and "mother". The looks on the faces of his partners at the table showed that they shared the sentiment.

The Panda King waited a second before throwing one more stone, it struck the door which flew open immediately. The guard was fuming at this point, but finding no one, he closed the door. In the instance that it was open, The Panda King saw the three at the table get up and walk towards the door, it was time. He reached into another pocket for the detonator that Murray had delivered to him at the rendezvous, courtesy of Bentley.

Suddenly the sky lit up with color, as the fireworks that had been placed by each of the Cooper Gang field members prior to heading towards their respective hangar went off. The Panda King threw one more stone, the door flew open with all hangar guards inside standing there, ready to kick some ass. The Panda King pressed the detonator, causing Bentley's bag of presents to ignite, blasting a hole in the wall of the hangar, the sounds of the large explosions above, masked the sound of the smaller one below.

The Panda King hurried forward. He checked the guards briefly, they'd need medical attention, but they'd live, the wall took most of the brunt of the blast. He reached into his pocket, moving his hand past the last stone for Bentley's Bug. Mission accomplished, all he needed to do was to place the bug momentarily on the control panel and the turtle would have full control of the gunnery platform, leaving Penelope completely safe as she did her run ov-

"**HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!**"

The Panda stopped dead, his blood ran cold at the voice. Turning ever so slowly, The Panda King made sure to make no sudden movements as he turned to face whoever was shouting at him. He turned to find Law standing in the hangar as well, she held a shock pistol and had it leveled right at him, with a look of pure murder in her eyes.

"Law!" The Panda King exclaimed, "Thank goodness you're here! Someone has sabota-"

"Cut the crap Panda King!" the bear's heart nearly jumped through his throat at having his cover blown, "I'm going to break the rules this one time. Tell me where Sly Cooper is, and I'll let you go."

The Panda King knew time was short, Penelope was due for her fly over any second, and people would start asking why the platforms weren't kicking in. He needed to take out Law and fast. "…Alright. Cooper rarely meets with me in person though."

"…That's a lie."

"It's true, I'm the one who helped kill his parents remember? He values my talents, but nothing more." The Panda King slowly moved his hand in his pocket, letting go of the bug and wrapping his fingers around the rock. "I have the location for our next rendezvous right HERE!"

The Panda King swiftly threw the stone and ducked to the side. The stone struck Law right between the eyes. The pain and surprise from this caused her to misfire, it only went downhill from there. Her shot from the shock pistol hurtled towards one of the SAMs on the gunnery platform, causing it to go off. This caused a chain reaction which lit the entire platform up like a roman candle.

**KA BOOM!**

The force of the blast sent the Panda King hurtling forward, he collided with what remained of the hangar wall, after that everything went black.

He didn't know where he was at first, but it soon donned on him that he was face first in the dirt ominous orange glow let him know that something was burning. Painfully, he turned himself over.

"Give him some room."

The Panda King looked up to see that he was surrounded by a circle of guards and recruits. The ground was littered with anti-cult propaganda, the dust and rubble on him informed him that he'd been blasted through the wall of the hangar. It took him a bit, but he finally found his footing and he stood up, the crowd backing off. He looked around to find medical and anti fire staff on scene, putting out the burning hangar. The medics fought through the crowd to see to The Panda King. The entire scene was nothing but mass confusion.

"DID YOU HEAR ME!?! I SAID GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!" came an unmistakable yell that was able to break through the sounds of the chaos the scene had become. The crowd parted to allow General Red a wide berth. He was heading towards the scene of the blaze when he caught sight of The Panda King. "GRIZZLY! TELL ME WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE!"

All eyes were upon the Panda King. Being put on the spot, the Panda King hurriedly tried to think of something that wouldn't get him arrested, and he went with the first story that seemed believable.

"It was, uh, Law! Yes, I was, uh, that is I saw her sneaking around, so I, er, followed her. She, uh, sabotaged the gunnery platform…sir."

General Red looked like he didn't believe this for a second. He looked like he was about to yell for The Panda King to be taken away, when suddenly.

"Sir!"

General Red stopped and turned as the crowd parted for two zebra medical officers holding up what the Panda King recognized as Pt. Law, only it wasn't Law. The white and black of her face had been smudged somehow. The zebras used a rag to wipe away at Law's face, the white and black giving itself away as mere face paint as it disappeared to allow orange and yellow fur to shine through.

Once this became clear, so did many other things for the Panda King. Law's intent staring, her unwarranted hostility, how she quickly deduced his true identity. The fact that she was caught slinking around the same area around the same time that Bentley's radio bug was destroyed and replaced, the blue hair, it was all right in front of him and he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. The zebras finished their work and it became all too apparent to The Panda King that he just ratted out Inspector Carmelita Fox.

"**Son of a bitch**," Red said, his voice was rife with feelings of betrayal and homicidal rage. He marched up and grabbed Carmelita by her unconscious face. "I you thought this was pretty f***ing funny didn't ya? So hilarious. Well I got a few jokes for you. Let's see how funny you think this is when you're missing a leg or two, **HUH!?! I'm going to torture every God damned secret you have right out of your head, YOU'LL THINK TWICE ABOUT MESSING WITH ME!**"

Seeing that Inspector Fox was in trouble, The Panda King moved forward, to try and see if there was some way to stop this. "Excuse me sir, if I may speak freely."

"WHAT IS IT GRIZZLY!?!" the ant yelled, turning back to the bear.

"This is something of a rare opportunity. Sly Cooper is known to care for this Interpol officer, to whatever extent is unknown, however the two have been known to work together in the past. Knowing The Lady Clock-la's deep resentment for Cooper and his allies, it would perhaps be for the best to see to it that such a prize remain…unspoiled?"

Red thought about this for a moment. He was mad alright, he was more than mad, he was furious. However, no matter how he felt, General Red always put his job long before whatever anger and hang-ups he felt. Letting reason and rational thought break through the thick fog of anger he felt, he began to cool down. "Alright," he said, addressing the two zebras, jamming a stogie in his mouth and lighting it, "…Hell. See to any wounds she's got. Then take her to the detention area, my armed guard will escort you." He then took a long drag and turned to one of his hyena entourage, "I want regular rations sent to her as well, along with an armed guard. No scratch that, I'll have my chef cook for her, I don't want any of the kitchen staff getting glory hungry and poisoning her food. I'll let Cobalt be in charge of the guard, it should keep him from scheming too much, and he ain't stupid enough try anything. But just in case, set up extra sniper guards, no one other than her and my chef are allowed inside that building, understand?"

"Yes sir," the hyena confirmed. He then ran off to do as he was ordered.

"ALRIGHT LADIES!" General Red shouted to the crowd at large, "UNLESS YOU GOT A GOT SOME BANDAGES, FIREHOSE, OR EVEN A BAG OF MARSHMALLOWS ON YOU, I EXPECT THAT YOU GET YOUR SORRY CARCASSES OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW, UNLESS YOU'RE IN THE MOOD TO DO PUSH-UPS ALL NIGHT!"

The crowd quickly dispersed, soon the only unauthorized person there was The Panda King, this fact was noticed by General Red immediately. The ant walked over to the bear and gave him a good nudge in the arm. "You did good son," Red complimented, "You did good."

However, as the Panda King stood numbly, watching Inspector Fox get dragged off by two zebras and an armed guard detail, he didn't feel like he did much good at all.

* * *

**Banging Plots and Plans**

* * *

**Gabon Coast, Africa 8:23pm**

"Get out of my way!" Sly shouted. He was currently grappling with The Guru in order to make it to the deck of the ship. Considering The Guru was a pacifist, and that's in a loose sense of the term, this would normally be no problem for Sly, except that his arm was in a sling and his chest was heavily bandaged, restricting his movements, and oddly enough, the one being capable of fixing this problem in a hurry was the same one he was feebly wrestling with to get to the deck. He'd just found out that Carmelita had been taken in by the cult, and he was not thrilled to say the least.

"Get offa me!" Sly shouted, desperately trying to shake the koala off of his leg.

"Ah meeha, me hee shapa," the Guru berated.

"And I'll deal with that problem when it comes along, but right now we need to get Carmelita, that's the important part."

"Huru shama sheepa!"

"I said I don't care!" Sly shouted as he threw open the door that lead to the ship's deck. Sly was disappointed at what he found, which was of course nothing, he'd been searching the ship for Bentley, for some reason his, nor anyone else's binoc-u-com was turned on. And to add further annoyance to his dismay, the ship was no longer moored at the beach and was quite a way from shore. He really needed to get some swim lessons one of these days, or at the very least a set of floaties.

"Where is everyone!?!" Sly shouted.

"They's long gone."

Sly's head snapped to the Guru who was still wrapped around his leg. "Did…did you just talk, like, normal talk?"

"Here's clear, cracker-box," came a voice from above. Sly looked up to find Dimitri wrapped up in the rigging.

"What are you doing up there?" Sly asked, thoroughly confused.

"I had sniffeded my feetsus and nows in the retrospect, I ask myself, "le why?"."

"Okay scratch that, why are we away from shore?"

"Oh yeah, bent Bentley had ze Dimitri do that."

"Why?"

"Something about keeping you from going on suicide flob job to save angry shooting cop person after Guru flab blabs the latest info."

"Hata mura hema!" The Guru shouted defensively.

"Is was joke bro."

"Hana heema," The Guru replied sourly.

"Yeah, buts zat's because I le lied! The lie's ze joke man!"

"Heru shap papa!"

"Ohh! Diss!" Sly shouted at the severe burn.

"You take zat back short snuff!" Dimitri shouted angrily, "My mother was a saint, she just had zis problem about laughing ugly babies."

"Ata chupa cha, hasa heep huran," The Guru said apologetically.

"Okay, cue sad song count, zis is bonafifide family moment."

"Oh yeah, were probably going get the daytime emmy for this," Sly said, "Anyways, where's Bentley and, well, everyone else who can speak English."

"Hey, I's cans-"

"Properly!"

"Ooh hoo! Aren't we's choosy today? Turtle face and friends is all out negotiating."

"With who?"

"The police," Penelope answered. She and Murray were currently traversing the jungle to a clearing some ways away from the base, heading towards a thick forested area they saw through satellite imaging. "See, way Bentley has it all figured out, if we didn't have the boat, it's the best possible place to stage a land based assault upon Bullet Bay. He figures that it's probably where Carmelita's ape mercs are stationed, or at least somewhere near by."

"Yeah, okay, I follow you," Murray said, nodding his head, "But what's to stop them from flatout arresting us?"

"That's a very good question," Suzy Q answered delightedly, "And I shall answer it through song."

"Please don't," Bentley pleaded from his place on Suzy Q's back. They were heading to Colonel Cobalt's secret hideaway off the base, using secret in a rather loose sense of the term. It was rather close to Bullet Bay, but sadly it lead them through a particularly swampy part of the jungle. So rather than having to fight through the mud, it was easier just to strap himself to Suzy Q's back and leave his chair behind on the ship. Of course, this left him virtually defenseless and about as dangerous as a sack full of super fluffy kittens.

"Okay fine. Anyways, Parliament was traveling around one day, on the mothership, fooling around with The Funk, when George Clinton kicked The Funk clean overboard. The was July the second, nineteen seventy-nine…The Day The Funk Died."

"…What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing really," Penelope answered honestly, "I mean, aside from you ripping them in half, nothing at all. But I'd think we'd all feel better about the big job if we had a little extra firepower backing us up."

"Okay, I get it," Murray said, catching on, "We get the chimps to work with us to spring Inspector Fox, as well as bust a few heads when the time comes."

"Let's just hope her black and white view of the world hasn't wiped off on them."

"Geez, you are like the most uptight guy I've ever met," Suzy Q lamented flatly.

"Uptight!?!" Bentley shouted, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, you're totally like some old guy who's all "Hey, you kids get off my lawn!"."

"Hey, they have no business being on my lawn!"

"See! You admit it!"

"I am not uptight!"

"Ah ha! That's exactly what Golgotron, uptight overlord of dimension twelve would say, and that's the most uptight dimension there is."

"I am not, wait, what!?!"

"So how would we know when the ape mercs have shown up?" Murray asked.

**CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. BOB. CLICK.**

"Probably when this happens," Penelope said unsurprised as seven ape mercenaries sprang from the thicket and pointed their shock rifles at the two Cooper Gang members.

"You're completely surrounded," The wildebeest guard said, coming out from behind a tree as Bentley and Suzy Q drew near.

"We already knew that," Bentley said, he was well aware of their presence, he's lived with Sly almost his entire life, he ought to. It annoyed the heck out of him that it took them ten minutes to get the stones to finally come up and talk to them.

"For security reasons," one of the apes began, taking out two white rags, "you'll need to be blindfolded."

"Riiiiight," Penelope began reassuringly, "Because you guys aren't hiding in the almost miniscule clearing a quarter of a mile in the direction we were heading, right?"

"…Just shut up and come along."

"Why?" Suzy Q asked, "Bentley, I don't think we should go anywhere with this guy."

The Wildebeest guard then began, "Col. Cobalt humbly reque-"

"Save your breath," Bentley cut in, "I'll give her the short version. Cobalt wants to talk."

"Why?"

"Because we want to talk," Murray said, answering one of the ape mercs' questions.

"Why else would we come to see you in person when we could've just had our man on the inside sick a bunch of Clock-la goons on you?" Penelope continued.

"So can we take these lame blindfolds off?" Suzy Q asked, as the air became warmer and the sound of her footsteps on stone made it all too obvious that they were walking in a cave now.

"Not a bad setup," Penelope admitted, as they were lead into the ape merc base camp. It was fitted with every necessity, imaginable; working showers, satellite relay and communications, everything required to stage a small assault, there was even a corral where some of the missing Bullet Bay soldiers had been tied to posts. This was the pinnacle of guerilla warfare (no pun intended).

"This way," one of the mercs ordered, leading the two to a dark, dimly lit tent.

"Take those off of them, they're our guests," came a rolling and demanding voice from the darkness.

The blindfolds were removed Bentley and Suzy Q, allowing them to get a full view of Col. Cobalt's secret lair, which is a fancy way of saying a large chamber with portraits of Col. Cobalt and Clock-la. There were a few portrait of the full Fiendish Five here and there, but they featured certain "improvements, which is another way of saying that General Red's image was torn from them and Col. Cobalt's own was plastered in.

"Nice set up you have here," Penelope complemented, as she and Murray were seated to a large table, across from another ape merc. The difference with this about this one as opposed to the others was that he was quite a bit bigger than the average ape mercenary, by at least half a head or so, and any part of his arms that wasn't covered was positively riddled with scars. This was the leader of The Flying Ape Mercenaries, and infamous right hand man of Inspector Fox, the ever reliable Lt. Gronk.

"Okay," Bentley whispered, do exactly what I told you to do.

Upon hearing the command, Suzy Q straightened her stance and slowly turned around, allowing Bentley to face Col. Cobalt who was sitting in a make shift throne also adorned with pictures of himself.

"So we meet again, Mister Bond," Bentley said sinisterly.

"*Snicker* Lame," Suzy Q heckled.

"Shush."

"I'm sure you are well aware of your surroundings, as well as the current situation," Col. Cobalt began.

"Inspector Fox is captured by The Church of Clock-la, a.k.a. The Clock-la Cult, a group known for it's violence, savagery, and zealotry," Penelope began, running down the situation, "Chances are that she's waiting for orders from her captors that state she is to be sacrificed in some grandstanding and terrible manner. And it's due to the efforts our man in the field that she isn't being tortured right now. Did I miss anything?"

"Without our help, Inspector Fox is doomed," Murray completed.

"Ah yes there is that. So let's chew the fat and…we aren't going to chew you Murray, sit back down."

"NO!" Bentley exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes," Col. Cobalt corrected, "Your fool in disguise was captured by an idiot private who caught her sneaking around. Inspector Fox's days are numbered, and that number doesn't even need both hands to count up to. That fool, General Red, made the infinitely wise choice to place yours truly in charge of guarding her. I have devised an impenetrable and potent security array around her that not even the fabled Cooper Gang can get by."

"They've placed a solid wall of guards around her," Lt. Gronk, informed the two across the table from him, a couple of bazooka rounds and it's over."

"Naw, with the way things are planned to turn out, we've got an even simpler plan to get her out of there," Penelope answered.

"Absolutely impenetrable," Cobalt finished smugly, "So! Lowly minion, tell your sneak king master that if he wishes to save his one true love, my impenetrable net would gladly loosen quite a bit if he were to relinquish himself into my custody."

"I'm not here on Sly's orders," Bentley answered.

"Oh really?"

"Really," Penelope answered, "Inspector Fox is as good as saved. Actually, to be honest, I'm rather surprised that you guys are so willing and ready to work with us."

"We know that the Inspector would not care for us allying, but we generally don't care that she doesn't care, her life's in danger. Inspector Fox saved my life, saved all of our lives, with no help form your gang," Lt. Gronk said, the last few words were said while he glared at Murray, having lost several teeth to the hippo in the past. "We'd be willing to do anything, provided that she comes out of this alive."

"You know what bugs me?" Murray began, "Why Inspector Fox was dudied up in Clock-la gear to begin with. She's never gone all super spy to try and take us out before, why now?"

"This time, she wasn't after you," Lt. Gronk began, "She was aiming at Bullet Bay, General Red and the cult itself."

"So that explains why Inspector Fox was in the Antarctic," Penelope said, amazed.

"No," Murray corrected, "Inspector Fox just does that."

"Correct," Gronk conceded, "We were gunning for you. However, after what we found there, from what was under the ice before it was swallowed by lava, as well as some of the ravings the lion cried out when we finally managed to take him down, frightened Inspector Fox quite a bit. So much so to the extent that she switched her sights from Cooper to Clock-la."

"Wait a minute," Penelope said, "Fox is gunning for Clock-la, and **this** is what you guys come at her with? No tanks or helicopters?"

"Don't think she didn't try, but technically The Clock-la case isn't hers to handle or be a part of, it's being headed by a bunch of halfwits and morons. They've probably been compromised. If the head of the team isn't a card carrying member of the cult, whoever's heading it almost certainly is."

"So why not raid Bullet Bay under some pretext? Say that's where we are."

"They ain't sending any army at us," Murray said cynically, "Although they **need** to if they ever hope to contain The Murray, he is still but a mere thief."

"That's exactly what Inspector Fox deduced," Gronk said, "However, the reason we were allowed to get this close is because we were here under the pretense that we were hunting you guys down here. The plan was that Inspector Fox would obtain evidence that this place was a hotspot for The Cult. Unfortunately, Inspector Fox lost track of that when she recognized your man on the inside and, well, Cooper **did** lie to and use her."

"Hey! Sly's nothing like that!" Murray jumped in, "Sly thinks the world of Fox. Don't ask me why, but in spite of her shooting at us, yelling at us, and locking me in an electrified cage, Sly's had us jump for her."

"That's something his accomplice **would** lie for him on."

"What'd you say?" Murray said, getting up and out of his seat, prompting Gronk to do the same, and the ape mercs in the tent to aim their shock rifles at the hippo.

"Alright, everyone, let's just calm down and remember were on the same side here," Penelope said, sweating profusely at the fact that there was a shock rifle aimed at her as well. Murray swallowed his pride and sat down.

"…For now," Gronk said, cooling off and returning to his seat as well.

"So what was the plan from there?"

"Once the evidence was obtained, Inspector Fox would return to Interpol with it. Unfortunately, due the spy, we wouldn't get any major players, but from the surveillance we have, they wouldn't be able to hide all those troops and weapons, so we'd get the ball rolling in the right direction."

"What sort of photos has she obtained so far?"

"Soldiers, weapons, soldiers with weapons, and several missiles, along with a few documents here and there, nothing to warrant immediate action though."

"And if we were to doctor those photos, making it seem as though they were ours as well as supply bogus evidence that we're going to use them in a diabolical manner?"

A shark like grin snaked it's way across Gronk's face to match the serpentine ones on the hippo and mouse. "…And at what time would you be using these evil weapons f mass destruction?"

"Probably the day after Clock-la makes her big speech next week," Murray said sinisterly.

"Then we'd have to pull out all the stops, and take no chances in taking down the Cooper Gang, probably the day before."

"And since this is a Cooper Gang case," Penelope continued, "no one working The Clock-la Case would need to be informed, right?"

"I suppose they wouldn't. That is if I'm hearing this correctly."

"I said it loud and clear," Bentley shot back.

"Oh ho?" Cobalt sounded, "And you expect me to believe that you, Sly Cooper's right hand man, suddenly turned on him?"

"What does Clock-la say about the guy?"

"He's a fetid, cowardly, horrid little scum who despises all things good and is responsible for everything bad in the world. It's because of him that the world needs to be changed, and by Clock-la's grand hand, a beautiful new eu-"

"Focusing on the raccoon," Bentley said, bringing the conversation back to why he was suddenly betraying Sly (a.k.a. telling the panther what he wanted to hear), "He's all that and more."

"He also snores," Suzy Q quipped.

"I mean, he named the gang after himself."

"Yes of course!" Cobalt exclaimed, "Sly Cooper is a narcissistic egomaniac, it was only a matter of time before his lackeys realized that as well. I can't stand people like that, idiots who are so wrapped up and in love with themselves. It makes me sick," He said as he leaned back in his throne with pictures of himself plastered all around it. "But there must be more to it than you simply wanting to see the evil Sly Cooper get what's coming to him."

"Hmm?" Bentley began, caught unawares, he had thought that Cobalt would be too preoccupied with dreams of power to even consider if Bentley wanted anything. Regardless, the turtle was able to improvise, "But of course, I, uh, realize that I stand no possible chance against such terrifying forces as Clock-la and yourself."

"Well…I **am **rather terrifying, aren't I?"

"Right, so in addition front row seats to Sly Cooper's execution, I want amnesty for all past crimes."

"Hmm…that would be something I could do, provided I was a member of the Fiendish Five."

"Then I shall make it so that it is you who captures Sly Cooper, that will certainly gain you entrance into those higher ranks."

"Excellent."

"However, there is on small problem."

"What?" Cobalt asked sourly, his voice coming close to a snarl.

"I, being just a lowly and weak cripple, stand no chance at subduing Sly Cooper, however, if someone as cunning and brilliant as you were to get to him, then he'd stand no chance." It was amazing that Bentley was able to keep from vomiting during that last sentence.

"Yes, you set up the trap and **I**, the brilliant **Colonel Cobalt**,shall close it. Cooper is **mine!**"

"Also, there is a chance that General Red will steal the glory."

"**General Red.** Just hearing the name of that old fool boils my blood, especially after the things he said. He's not even a true believer to the cause, I AM! He's just hire help."

"We were working to discredit him through sabotage, however, with you handling security, it'll be impossible to-"

"Say no more. If it's sabotage you need, then it's sabotage you'll get. I'm sure my guards are more than capable of making sure one or two "accidents" occur. Tomorrow marks a new day of incompetence for Red's beloved Bullet Bay." Colonel Cobalt then reached for a bottle of champagne that rested at the side of the throne, raising it in a toast. "To the success of The Clock-la world order!"

"To Cobalt, soon to be member of The Fiendish Five!" Bentley, continued.

"To peace man!" Suzy Q entered.

"**To the death of General Red,**" Cobalt chuckled sinisterly before chugging down the bottle.

"To the only door on the top floor," the hyena told the Panda King.

"Thank you," The Panda King said, grateful for the directions, having become lost in General Red's expansive home. Now knowing the key to where he was going, he just kept heading up. Upon reaching the top floor, The Panda King tried to enter General Red's office, but was held up by the guards outside.

"LET HIM IN!" came the ant's signature shout. The guards parted and allowed the bear through the door.

The Panda King walked through the door, and instead of finding General Red sitting at his desk, he was standing at the window across the room staring out of it to gaze out at his base. The Panda King closed the door behind him and stood at attention. "Sir!"

"At ease soldier," General Red said, without turning around, "…Y'know, I've run this base for over five years, and nothing ever blew up until I had to watch that commie scientist equipment."

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"With all due respect, why did you call for me sir?"

"You've got a lot of moxy Grizzly. Earlier today, at the village, what you did was downright heroic. Most soldiers would've let that bird get shot and then go torch that village. You didn't. Instead, you did things the hard way and put your life on the line for those innocents and your subordinates. You put your life up for theirs, and not the other way around, you looked death right in the eye and hawked a lugi. It took a lot to do that. You never see that anymore. Not only that, but you also pulled my bacon out of the fire by uncovering that spy, you've learned to trust no one, and that's good."

"Sir?"

"Right, right, getting to why you're here. You're a good man Grizzly. Cobalt's planning something, I don't know what it is or when it is, but when he does it, this base is gonna pop like big, fat, ugly zit. It's gonna tear itself apart. When that time comes, I'm going to need men I can count on to make the right decisions." General Red turned around to stare the Panda King right in the eye, "What I'm saying is; when that happens, can I count on you Grizzly?"

"…Sir…yes sir."

* * *

And that's the notorious chapter thirteen boys and girls! It's been a long haul, I know, believe me, I** know**. It's been a long road, with it's many twists and turns, rife with all the unexpected things life tends to bring, college…it's an adventure, and not one to be taken lightly. And while I was busy, setting up my future, believe me when I say I was often thinking of you guys. And on that note, please let me say that I am **deeply, truly, beyond the shadow of a doubt, **_**sorry for taking so long.**_ It **WILL NOT** happen again, ever. You have my solemn vow on that one.

Now, it's time for me to kiss ass and suck toes. It's time to give a hand to those folks who were kind enough not to threaten me with anthrax, letter bombs or Sarah Palin, even though lords knows that they have every right to. It's time to give a shout out to the often unsung heroes of the site, the ever lovable, and always irreplaceable crazy kids, who inspire us to update, even when we're sick, the ones, the only, the reviewers:

**Green Phantom Queen:** Don't worry, at this point, it's me who hoping to be forgiven by you. As for dying, well, I think this chapter shows the fowl ups and pitfalls that arise from simple body paint. Wouldn't you say? It's great to hear from you.

**Wolvmbm: **Well, I'm pleased as punch that you enjoyed it, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, from every "*sigh*…Nothing." to "*Snicker* Lame." Sorry this chapter wasn't as action packed, but it did have a decent amount of prelude to what's to come. As for the whole "Law/King" thing, I'm going to tip my hand and say that ain't happening. I'm mean, they're from two entirely different worlds, he's a cat person, she's a dog person, it's doomed from the start. As for another Sly/Ruby meeting, you can bet your bottom dollar on that one.

**Kurieo Parnok: **I'm going to assume that your feelings toward the Colonel have not improved due to the content of this chapter. And yes, I gotta admit, I was way too transparent with the whole Carmelita=Law thing, but hey, I'm not M. Night Shamylan (thank god). As for the ventriloquism thing: really? I thought it was PG13 stuff. Truly. As for my wit, well, you got a good enough sense of humor, and the world will always appear smiling, even as you rob it at gunpoint. I'm glad I could make you smile.

**Kindom Rider92: **Hell yeah dude! I need a job! Being broke sucks! Wait a minute, who's Private Law? Yeah, they were running yellow (is joke, but not good one, will be better next time, I sorry, I sorry). As for Mz. Ruby, well, c'mon, it's Star Wars, how can anyone not like it? And I'm talking THE REAL Star Wars, with Luke and Han and stuff. Not this second trilogy with Jar Jar Binks and an emo, child killing Vadar, and certainly not the horrid family friendly Clone Wars garbage (seriously, Anikan gets an apprentice? Bullcrap! I ain't buying it! BRING BACK CHEWIE DAMN IT!) Okay, rant over, sorry for taking so long.

**pasta16:** "She's going to jump!" "What happened!?!" "She gained five pounds!" "Dios mio!" Actually, to be honest, the button would've probably gotten me too. Well in that case, I ought to give Bentley a **standing** ovation. I'm sorry, that was messed up, maybe it's best if I just **walk away** from those sorts of jokes altogether. (Yes, I know it's inappropriate, but that's what makes it funny). No way, King Kong would totally lay the smack down on Stay Puft's candy ass (literally, his ass is made of candy). What, have even heard "Paradise By The Dashboard Lights", it'll change your life man! Yeah, I know, I need to get better material. But without surprises every so often, life becomes predictable and safe, and who really wants that? The next line is "E-I-E-I-O!" right? Yeah, my writing seems to be riddled with weird little things like that. IN THE YEAR 9595: "…Honey. *Snicker*" Yup, because nothing perks a caramel apple up better than razor blades. Mmm-mmm, internal bleeding. Yeah about that, SORRYFORTHEWAITPLEASEDON'TKILLME! AAH! Well, I hope you had real good tunes for this one as well.

**R and C Stroyteller: **Awesome like a possum (and they are **so** awesome!).

**The Good Thief: **Thanks dude! Listen, sorry for the wait, and trust me, I do intend to become professional, I just don't intend to starve while I make that happen.

**TheAlmightyHachu:** I'm glad you think so, and don't worry, the wait won't be so long this time around.

**The True Elemental Alchemist:** So is cheesecake, and bacon, although not necessarily together. Anyways, thanks man.

**Moorage:** That's the difference between comedy and tragedy; "Did it happen to you or someone else?"

**okami009: **We have a punching pink hippo, a telekinetic shapeshifting koala, and a laser powered android, talking animals of various shapes and sizes, but that's what you single out? Is it that hard to believe?

**Bookworm Gal:** Thank you kindly, that's what I was aiming for. You're the only one to pick up on "Kitsune" being Japanese for fox, so gold star for you! (Don't spend it all in one place). And trust me, I'm way ahead of you on that front.

**Giana Nora:** Sorry dude, but to be honest, I'm not that into Naruto, in fact I'm part of the opposite camp (One Piece! PIRATES! Go Strawhats GO!). So sorry, but thanks all the same.

**randomFanXD:** Well I'm glad you feel that way! Thank you and come again!

**smashbrawlguy:** Well thanks for the compliment, I'm flattered that I'm able to satisfy such high class standards and taste. It's a real feather in my cap. As for Bentley, I noticed that too, but the words felt right for some reason, odd. I see, it's a thought that's duly noted. As for errors and grammar, I do what I can, but I'm only human (for now). Thanks for the review!

Alright kids, admittance time. Part of the reason why it took so long to update this is because I got roped into co-authoring another story here on fanfic. Now don't go asking me how or nothing, because I'm still a little sketchy on that myself. However, it won't get in the way of me updating this story (at least not too much). So if you got some time to kill, why don't you boogie on over and check it out. His penname is and the story is called **The Ultimates**. Yes I know that's a Marvel comics title, but he's the one who came up with the idea for the story, so he got to title it. Getting past that, it ain't half bad, if I do say so myself (and I do).

Anywhosits, it's been a gas, and as much as it pains me to say it, it's high time to hit the road. So! Join me in a personal pledge of mine: **I swear to live strong, die free, always leave 'em laughing, and to never spit in front of women or children.**

Good night everybody, and take care of yourself, 'cause there's only one you.


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